I 


POMP   and 

QRgUWTANCE 


BY 


GERARD 


440G 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 


POMP  AND 
CIRCUMSTANCE 


BY 

DOROTHEA    GERARD 

(Madame  Longard  de  Longgarde) 
AUTHO*  or  "THE  THREE  ESSENTIALS,"  "THE  COMPROMISE,"  rrc. 


NEW  YORK 

B.  W.  DODGE  &  COMPANY 

1908 


Copyright,  1908,  by 

B.  W.  DODGE  &  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK 


CONTENTS 


PART  I 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.    IN  THE  BALL-ROOM i 

II.    DURING  THE  BALL 14 

III.    AFTER  THE  BALL 24 


PART  II 

I.  UPON  THE  SHELF 42 

II.  ANTIGONE 59 

III.  THE  PUPIL 78 

IV.  MR.  HEKETES 90 

V.  "CLEAN  WINE" 108 

VI.    THE  "MURRICLE" 127 

VII.    THE" OUTING" 141 

VIII.    BOB  KENDALL 162 

v 


213S620 


vi  CONTENTS 

PART    III 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.     "CERBERUS"  GOES  A-WOOING 183 

II.    THE  "SHOW" 199 

III.  IN  THE  HEART  OF  THE  FOG 214 

IV.  THE  SURRENDER   235 

V.    THE  "BOUDOIR  HERALD" 249 

VI.  "!GEN  OR  NEM?" 261 

VII.  THE  VERDICT 275 

VIII.  THE  SUMMONS 286 

IX.  Two  SPHINXES 300 

X.  THE  APPEAL 315 

XL  THE  PROMISE 330 

XII.     "IGEN" 342 

EPILOGUE 358 


Pomp  and  Circumstance 

PART   I 


CHAPTER    I 

IN  THE  BALL-ROOM 

"FRAU  HARDING  does  this  sort  of  thing  very 
well,  don't  you  think?" 

"Mrs.  Harding,  you  should  say,  if  you  care 
about  staying  in  her  good  graces.  She  considers 
that  the  English  flavour  gives  a  prestige,  you 
know." 

"Ah,  to  be  sure !  Well,  Frau  or  Mrs.,  she  un- 
derstands a  hostess's  business.  Floor,  food,  flow- 
ers, and  fiddles  about  as  good  as  I  have  seen  them 
anywhere  this  Carnival.  The  'Anglo-Saxon'  must 
be  doing  famous  business." 

"It  would  need  to,"  came  the  retort,  together 
with  the  dry  chuckle  of  the  critic — "always 
granted  that  to-night's  bills  are  cashed.  I  put 
down  the  evening" — and  through  her  gold-rimmed 
lorgnon  the  speaker  swept  the  eye  of  a  connoisseur 


round  the  room — "I  put  down  the  evening  at  not 
a  kreutzer  under  a  thousand  florins." 

"H— m !" 

The  second  speaker  in  the  dialogue  collapsed 
into  a  pause,  presumably  filled  with  arithmetical 
calculations. 

The  scene  upon  which  the  two  stout,  middle- 
aged,  much  frizzled  and  much  bejewelled  matrons 
gazed  was,  nevertheless,  worthy  of  other  mental 
operations  than  addition  and  multiplication.  For 
Vienna  is  the  city  not  only  of  fair  faces,  lithe 
figures  and  a  feminine  taste  in  dress  which  has 
awakened  Paris  herself  to  the  need  of  looking  to 
her  laurels — it  is,  above  all,  the  city  of  perfect 
dancers — a  fact  which  goes  far  towards  reconcil- 
ing the  mere  looker-on  to  his  or  her  fate.  The 
pulse  of  even  the  sleepiest  of  chaperons  could  not 
fail  to  be  at  moments  stirred  by  this  whirl  of 
young  forms,  so  erect,  so  elastic,  so  refreshingly 
unconscious;  for  that  standing  dilemma  of  the 
average  British  cub — where  and  how  to  bestow 
his  arms  and  legs  with  the  minimum  of  personal 
embarrassment — is  non-existent  for  his  Austrian 
prototype.  Add  to  this  that  he  is,  musical  to  his 
finger-tips.  The  strains  of  the*  Strauss  waltz, 
floating  through  a  screen  of  hothouse  flowers,  were 
acting  as  directly  upon  the  nerves  of  these  young 
men  and  women  as  did  the  scent  of  the  flowers 
themselves.  The  result,  besides  the  harmony  of 
movement,  lay  in  many  a  blissful  smile,  in  many 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE        3 

a  frankly  enchanted  gaze;  for  the  Austrian,  even 
with  money  in  his  pocket,  has  not  yet  learnt  to  be 
ashamed  of  enjoying  himself. 

That  most  of  those  present  had  money  in  their 
pockets  was  proclaimed  by  the  size  and  water  of 
the  diamonds  in  the  room — usually  displayed 
upon  fat  necks — as  well  as  by  the  look  of  the 
women's  gowns,  of  which  the  overwhelming  ma- 
jority— even  at  this  fag-end  of  the  Carnival — 
were  obviously  at  their  first  night.  Among  the 
men  black  coats  predominated — a  circumstance 
which,  taken  in  conjunction  with  the  millinery  and 
the  jewels,  as  well  as  of  an  occasional  unmistakably 
Semitic  profile  among  the'  prosperous-looking  men 
in  the  card-room,  would,  for  a  Viennese  eye,  have 
sufficed  to  label  the  gathering  as  one  of  the  haute 
finance.  Eminently  a  civilian  affair.  What  uni- 
forms were  there  had  been  mostly  brought  to  the 
matrimonial  market,  and  were  being  temptingly 
displayed  before  the  eyes  of  heiresses. 

"Yes — I  daresay  that's«  about  the  figure,"  re- 
marked the*  last  speaker,  after  that  pause.  "It 
couldn't  well  be  done-  under  a  thousand.  She's 
going  it  strong  this  season.  After  all,  when  you 
have  daughters,  to  marry " 

She  brought  back  her  eyes  from,  the  brilliant 
scene  to  her  neighbour's  hard,  brick-red  face.  Her 
own  wide»  and  jovial  countenance,  upon. which  the 
rice-powder  showed  as»  plainly  as  the  flour  on  an 
unbaked  pudding,  visibly  expanded,  while  the  two 


4         POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

small  black  eyes,  which  might  have  been  two  iso- 
lated currants  half-buried  in  the  dough,  twinkled 
with  enjoyment — for  this  branch  of  the  subject 
promised  good  sport. 

"As  though  she  hadn't  been  doing  it  for  years 
past,  while  both  the  girls  were  in  the  school- 
room!" openly  sneered  the  brick-red  lady.  Upon 
which  she  abruptly  softened  and  graciously  con- 
ceded : 

"Small  blame  to  her  either  for  not  living  be- 
hind a  screen.  She's  quite  worth  looking  at  yet." 

"Not  with  Irma  beside  her,"  gently  corrected 
her  companion.  "Don't  you  think  that  girl  has 
wonderfully  improved  of  late?" 

"I  don't  think  she  comes  near  to  her  mother." 

"Oh,  don't  you?" 

The  jovial  lady,  leant  back,  fanning  herself 
slowly  and  immensely  enjoying  herself.  That 
question  of  daughters  to  marry,  which  by  a  child- 
less woman  could  be  viewed  with  perfect  detach- 
ment, was,  as  she  well  knew,  a  delicate'  point  with 
her  neighbour. 

"The  mother  is  more  showy,  if  you  like;  but, 
to  my  mind,  the  daughter  beats  her  entirely.  Just 
look  at  her  eyes!" 

"Just  look  at  the  mother's  figure!" 

"That  grace  of  movement!" 

"That  stateliness  of  stature!" 

For  a  minute  or  two  the  rival  claims  of  mother 
and  daughter  flamed  over  two  eager  pairs  of  lips. 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE         5 

A  casual  listener  might  have  supposed  that  Mrs. 
Harding  was  the  idol  of  the  brick-red  lady's 
heart,  whereas  in  reality  she  was  precious  to  her 
only  as  an  extinguisher  to  Irma's  more  incon- 
venient charms;  just  as  her  pudding-faced  com- 
panion was  using  Irma  herself  solely  as  a  pin 
wherewith  to  prod  this  mother  of  plain-faced 
daughters,  just  for  the  fun  of  the.  thing — unless 
possibly  the  grudge  against  Fate  for  not  having 
given  her  daughters  of  her  own  had  anything  to 
do  with  it. 

The  climax  came  with  the  remark: 

"Well,  anyway,  a  good,  majority  of  the  men 
seem  to  be  of  my  opinion — Baron  Kiraly  among 
others.  This  is  the  second  cotillon  he  has  danced 
with  her  this  week." 

The  complexion  alongside  turned  more  dis- 
tinctly apoplectic,  while  with  the  heaving  of  the 
ample  bosom  the  diamond  riviere  seemed  to  spit 
fire.  For  Baron  Kiraly  was  a  parti,  and  at  the 
outset  of  the  Carnival  there  had  been  signs 

Her  neighbour,  remembering  the  excellence  of 
the  dinners  given  by  the  wearer  of  the  riviere, 
took  fright.  Baron  Kiraly  was  the  biggest  of  the 
pins  she  had  run  into  her  victim's  flesh  to-night. 
Perhaps  it  was  time  to  apply  balm  to  the  puncture. 
The  sight  of  a  fair-haired,  angular-looking  girl 
across  the  room  determined  the  form  which  that 
balm  was  to  take.  It  was  somewhat  hastily  that 
she  said: 


6         POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

"But  the  younger  one  is  nothing  to  speak  of. 
Looks  more  bony  than  ever,  now  that  they  have 
put  her  into  long  frocks.  Quite  the  English  strain. 
— and  the  wrong  strain  too,  for  the  father  is  said 
to  have  been  a  fine  man  in  his  day.  What  has 
become  of  him  to-night,  by-thevby?  Queer  he 
shouldn't  be  here  to  do  the  honours  of  his  own 
house." 

"Very  queer!  Some  talk  of  an  extra  press  of 
business.  But  business  isn't  usually  done  at  this 
hour  of  night.  Extraordinary  idea  to  leave  one's 
wife  unsupported  on  such  an  occasion  as  this." 

"She  doesn't  seem  to  mind  it  much,  does  she?" 

Just  at  that  moment  the  floor  automatically 
cleared,  for  the  music  had  paused.  Both  pairs  of 
eyes  turned  towards  the  figure  in  the  opposite 
doorway.  Mrs.  Harding  stood  with  slightly  in- 
clined head,  listening  to  some  suggestion  of  the 
cotillon  leader,  touching  the  next  figure.  Even 
had  her  comparative  isolation  not  marked  her  out, 
she  would  probably  have  remained  the  most  con- 
spicuous figure  in  the  room;  and  this  not  only  be- 
cause of  her  commanding  stature  and  imposing 
bust,  but  also  because  of  a  certain  brilliancy  of 
appearance  which  caught  the  eye  as  unavoidably 
as  does  the  glitter  of  a  spangle.  It  was  through 
the  richness  of  its  colouring,  its  strongly  contrasted 
and  strongly  accentuated  tints,  that  her  irregular 
face  agreeably  surprised  the  spectator.  The  red 
on  cheeks  and  lips  was  pure  carmine,  the  brown 


POMP  AND   CIRCUMSTANCE        7 

eyes  full  of  golden  lights,  showing  even  in  the 
whites  a  gleam  as  of  mother-o'-pearl,  to  which 
the  whiteness  of  the  teeth  flashed  response;  the 
dark  eyebrows  as  sharply  pencilled  as  though  they 
were  painted,  the  black  hair  lustrous  as  satin.  The 
ample  shoulders,  generously  displayed,  rose  mas- 
sive as  marble,  and  almost  as  dazzling,  above  the 
black  velvet  of  the  gown,  its  sombreness  relieved 
only  by  one  huge  cluster  of  yellow  roses.  Mrs. 
Harding  never  made  the  mistake  of  dressing  be- 
low her  age,  and  had  wisely  renounced  round 
dances  years  ago,  well  aware  of  the  perils  which, 
to  complexions  over  forty,  lurk  in  violent  move- 
ment. 

A  fresh  paroxysm  of  admiration  came  over  the 
brick-red  lady. 

"It's  no  wonder,  surely,  if  she  has  got  him  un- 
der her  thumb !  They  say  he  is  quite  silly  about 
her  still.  He'd  be  sillier  yet  if  he  saw  her  in  that 
gown  I" 

She  spoke  truer  than  she  knew.  While  the 
words  were  on  her  lips  a  man,  who  had  let  himself 
into  the  flat  with  a  latchkey,  was  standing  in  a 
back  passage,  beside  a  door  barely  ajar.  Through 
the  narrow  gap  a  section  of  the  brilliantly  lighted 
room  was  visible.  The  man — a  middle-aged  per- 
son, wearing  an  overcoat — stood  rigid  and  unob- 
served for  about  a  minute  at  his  post,  and  during 
that  minute  his  eyes  never  moved  from  the  figure 
in  black  velvet.  Had  any  one  of  the  laughing, 


8         POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

chattering  women  caught  sight  of  the  apparition 
in  the  door-chink  it  is  probable  that  she  would 
have  instinctively  shrieked,  in  recognition  of  the 
skeleton  at  the  feast;  for  what  could  this  face  of 
despair  be  seeking  among  all  these  mirthful  coun- 
tenances? 

But  public  attention  was  otherwise  occupied, 
which  was  why  the  man  in  the  overcoat  was  able 
to  pass  unnoticed  and  unsuspected  down  the  pas- 
sage and  to  a  room  beyond. 

"The  toy-shop  figure!"  ejaculated  the  mother 
of  daughters,  as  the  music  once  more  struck  up. 
"Why,  that  in  itself  is  an  affair  of  fifty  florins!" 

"Only  one  more  week  of  Carnival!"  eloquently 
sighed  Baron  Kiraly,  his  black  eyes  no  less  elo- 
quently fixed  upon  his  partner's  face. 

Irma  Harding  laughed,  dandling,  meanwhile, 
upon  her  knee  the  penny  doll  which  had  fallen  to 
her  share  in  the  toy-shop  figure.  "You're  mis- 
taken there,  Baron!  I  mean  to  have  ten  years  of 
Carnival  yet,  whatever  the  calendar  may  say.  I 
don't  intend  to  begin  strewing  the  ashes  till  I'm 
twenty-eight.  Don't  you  think  that  will  be  time 
enough?" 

"I  think  that  will  be  just  twenty  years  too  soon. 
You  pretend  to  be  eighteen  now,  but  I  don't  be- 
lieve it.  Nobody  over  eight,  at  most,  could  handle 
a  doll  as  you're  doing  this  one.  Tell  me  the  truth, 
Fraulein  Irma,  you  do  play  with  them  still,  behind 
closed  doors,  don't  you?" 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE        9 

"Oh,  if  that's  the  way  to  tell  ages,  then  you 
must  be  over  a  hundred,  at  least ;  for  you  evidently 
haven't  a  notion  what  to  do  with  your  air-gun." 

"If  it  was  a  real  gun  I'd  know  in  a  moment 
what  to  do  with  it." 

"Frighten  the  old  ladies?" 

"No,  soften  the  hearts  of  the  young  ones — of 
one  young  lady  at  least,  by  dying  at  her  cruel 
feet." 

Irma  made  a  little  grimace,  still  dandling  her 
doll. 

"Don't  you  know  that  blood-stains  are  ruin  to 
a  white  dress?" 

An  hour  later  the  cotillon  had  reached  its  final 
phase.  Breathless  men,  their  hands  full  of  ex- 
quisite bunches  of  hyacinths  and  tea-roses,  provided 
by  Mrs.  Harding's  munificence — and  estimated  by 
the  brick-red  calculator  at  a  florin  apiece — were 
hurrying  across  the  floor,  seeking  out  the  ladies 
of  their  choice.  This  was  the  moment  which  irrev- 
ocably crowned  the  queen  of  the  ball.  In  order 
to  assign  the  sceptre  of  the  evening  to  its  rightful 
owner  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  count  the  bou- 
quets, as  a  red-skin  might  count  his  scalps.  To- 
night calculation  seemed  superfluous.  The  mound 
of  flowers  steadily  growing  upon  the  seat  upon 
which  Irma  Harding  found  no  moment  for  repose 
settled  the  great  question  at  a  glance.  As  daugh- 
ter of  the  house  it  could  not  well  be  otherwise — 


io       POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

so  urged  various  young  ladies  with  smaller  collec- 
tions of  bouquets  and  longer  breathing  spaces  be- 
tween the  waltz  tunes.  Yet  even  they  were  bit- 
terly aware  that  this  exceptional  position  was  but 
one  factor  in  her  triumph  of  the  evening,  for  Irma, 
while  less  brilliant,  or,  at  any  rate,  less  conspicu- 
ous, was  unquestionably  more  beautiful  than  her 
mother.  That  somewhat  overdone  colouring, 
those  violent  contrasts,  were  here  toned  down  by 
just  that  degree  which  makes  for  charm  rather  than 
for  mere  effect.  The  shades  of  the  hair  were  less 
intense,  the  rose  of  the  cheeks  less  vivid,  while  in 
the  more  delicate  oval  of  the  face  a  pair  of  thickly 
fringed  eyes  shone  so  darkly  that  only  at  close  quar- 
ters did  the  enchanted  spectator  discover  them  to 
be  blue  and  not  black.  The  dash  of  blue  was  the 
one  hint  she  had  taken  from  her  Anglo-Saxon  fore- 
fathers. In  all  else,  in  the  delicacy  of  hands  and 
feet,  in  the  elasticity  of  form  and  ease  of  carriage, 
she  belonged,  physically,  at  least,  to  her  mother's 
nation. 

As  now  she  passed  from  one  arm  to  the  other, 
Irma  was  visibly  drinking  her  triumph  in  full 
draughts.  The  music,  the  lights,  the  admiration 
in  the  men's  eyes,  no  less  than  the  envy  in  the 
women's,  all  were  ingredients  in  her  cup  of  enjoy- 
ment. Earlier  in  the  evening  there  had  been  a 
disturbing  flavour  in  the  cup,  or,  rather,  there  had 
been  one  ingredient  wanting — the  approving  gaze 
of  her  father.  Where  was  he  ?  Why  had  he  not 


POiMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE       11 

kept  his  promise  of  admiring  her  new  frock?  Al- 
ways that  stupid  business!  Evidently  he  worked 
too  hard.  He  had  been  looking  so  worried  lately ; 
but,  then,  he  always  looked  worried.  Twice  in 
the  course  of  the  evening  she  had  escaped  from 
the  ball-room  to  look  into  his  private  room,  only 
to  find  it  empty.  Why  was  he  not  returned  from 
the  bank?  Surely  he  was  not  taken  ill? 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,"  was  Mrs.  Harding's  serene 
reply  when,  in  a  fit  of  anxiety,  Irma  questioned 
her.  "He'll  be  answering  business  letters  in  his 
office.  So  like  him  to  put  off  things  till  these  im- 
possible hours.  Just  look  after  the  guests,  Irma, 
and  don't  trouble  about  your  father.  You  know 
he  always  shirks  when  he  possibly  can." 

But  this  had  been  hours  ago.  Since  then  every 
twinge  of  anxiety  had  gone  down  in  the  whirlpool 
of  enjoyment;  for  care  for  the  guests  did  not  nec- 
essarily imply  neglect  of  oneself.  That  the  big- 
gest parti  in  the  room  should,  very  obviously,  be 
basking  in  the  light  of  her  smiles,  could  not  but 
heighten  intoxication.  Not  that  Baron  Kiraly's 
bold  black  eyes  had  done  the  smallest  damage  to 
her  heart,  or  that  she  had  any  intention  whatever 
of  parting  with  her  liberty  in  his  favour,  but  sim- 
ply that  he  represented  for  her  the  first  handy  ob- 
ject on  which  to  try  her  woman's  powers.  Though 
she  might  not  want  him  for  herself,  it  was  amusing 
to  keep  him  from  the  others.  That  imp  of  co- 
quetry which  slumbers  in  all  but  a  few  exceptional 


12       POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

women's  hearts  flourished  unavoidably  in  the  too 
congenial  surroundings.  The  same  thing  was  go- 
ing on  on  all  sides.  Having  tried  her  hand  at  the 
game,  and  finding  that  she  could  play  it  at  least  as 
well  as  any  other,  it  was  not  in  human  nature  to 
desist.  Let  the  ten  years'  carnival  she  promised 
herself  last  but  two,  and  the  unspoiled  girl's  heart 
would  have  become  as  light,  possibly  as  damaged 
a  ware,  as  any  that  beat  beneath  these  many-col- 
cured  gowns;  for  we  are  but  the  product  of  our 
circumstances  (so  we  are  told),  and  in  Vanity  Fair 
virtue,  pure  and  simple,  is  not  marketable.  If  there 
was  anything  in  Irma  Harding  beyond  gaiety,  vi- 
vacity and  an  unlimited  capacity  for  enjoyment,  it 
ran  fair  risk  of  missing  its  way  upon  the  primrose 
path  she  had  hitherto  trod,  and  which  she  hoped 
to  continue  treading.  For  how  much  longer?  It 
was  a  question  which  she  had  never  so  much  as 
put  to  herself — least  of  all  thought  of  putting  to 
herself  to-night — to-night,  with  the  ordeal  so  close 
already  and  so  cruel !  Under  the  brilliancy  of  the 
electric  light  how  should  she  have  discerned  the 
shadow  already  fallen  upon  the  future? — how, 
through  the  strains  of  the  dance-music,  have  dis- 
tinguished the  footfall  of  approaching  Fate  ? 

"You  will  be  on  the  ice  to-morrow,  or  rather  to- 
day— will  you  not,  Fraulein  Irma?"  asked  the  am- 
orous Baron,  as  the  last,  long-drawn  note  of  the 
fiddlers  died  out  among  a  whirl  of  skirts. 

"That  depends  upon  how  much  my  feet  hurt 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE       13 

me!"  And  the  Queen  of  the  Ball  sank  down 
breathless  beside  her  mound  of  flowers,  to  rise 
again  within  the  same  minute  at  her  mother's  sig- 
nal and  do  her  part  in  the  speeding  of  the  parting 
guests. 

Half  an  hour  later  Mrs.  Harding  looked  round 
the  abandoned  room  with  the  satisfied  eye  of  a  vic- 
torious general  upon  a  vacated  battlefield.  Like  a 
battlefield,  too,  the  shining  parquet  was  strewn 
with  remains,  though  only  of  ribbons  and  faded 
flowers,  which  one  of  the  hired  waiters — uncon- 
scious representative  of  the  inevitable  "hyena" — 
was  already  beginning  to  collect. 

"I  think  it  has  been  a  success !"  the  hostess  pro- 
nounced. 

Just  then  the  clock  of  a  neighbouring  church 
struck  clear  through  the  frosty  air. 

"Four  o'clock!" 

Irma  began  to  stretch  her  stiff  arms  above  her 
head;  then,  at  a  sudden  recollection,  dropped  them 
again. 

"And  papa?  What  has  become  of  him?  It's 
impossible  he  shouldn't  be  home  yet!" 


CHAPTER  II 

DURING  THE   BALL 

IN  a  room  at  the  end  of  the  passage,  to  which 
the  highest  tones  of  the  fiddles  penetrated,  shrill 
and  yet  faint,  Edward  Harding  sat  with  his  elbmvs 
upon  the  writing-table  and  his  head  between  his 
hands.  Beside  him  there  lay  a  small  steel  revolver, 
which,  after  having  locked  the  door  and  switched 
on  the  electric  light,  he  had  taken  from  the  back 
of  a  drawer.  He  had  not  thought  of  removing 
his  overcoat.  For  what  he  had  to  do  it  did  not 
seem  worth  while;  or  perhaps  the  temperature  of 
the  room  made  its  thickness  welcome,  for  in  the 
absorption  of  the  evening's  festivities  the  stove 
in  here  had  very  naturally  been  neglected. 

The  master  of  the  house  in  which  so  brilliant  an 
entertainment  was  taking  place  was  a  man  of  some 
fifty-odd  years,  tall,  fleshless,  with,  in  his  some- 
what narrow  shoulders,  that  slight  stoop  which  al- 
ways betrays  desk-work,  fair  hair  much  bleached 
already  and  very  thin  about  the  temples,  and  a 
haggard,  over-mobile  face,  upon  which  the  fine  net- 
work of  creases  was  ceaselessly  playing  into  new 

14 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE       15 

patterns.  The  mouth,  seldom  at  rest  for  more  than 
a  few  moments  at  a  time,  completed  the  disquieting 
effect  of  the  face ;  while  upon  the  whole  man  there 
hung  that  undefmably  "hunted"  look  which  pro- 
claims a  set  of  ruined  nerves. 

Presently  he  dropped  his  hands  and  drew  to- 
wards him  a  sheet  of  paper.  With  the  dance-music 
in  his  ears  and  the  revolver  lying  close  to  his  hand, 
he  began  to  write  precipitately. 

"Isabella — my  Queen,  my  one  and  only  Love," 
—  (it  was  characteristic  of  the  woman  he  was  wri- 
ting to,  that  no  one,  not  even  her  own  husband,  had 
ever  attempted  to  curtail  the  name  into  either  "Isa" 
or  "Bella") — "I  have  just  looked  upon  you — for 
the  last  time.  Never  have  you  appeared  to  me  more 
beautiful.  It  is  difficult  to  die  with  my  eyes  still 
full  of  that  image,  and  yet  it  is  more  impossible  to 
live.  This  is  my  confession.  When  you  have  read 
it  you  will  understand — but  will  you  forgive?  Isa- 
bella, I  am  too  weak  to  face  ruin  and  disgrace,  and 
that  is  what  awaits  us  all — through  my  fault.  It 
can  only  be  my  fault  for  not  having  succeeded.  In 
the  race  of  Life  there  is  no  mercy  for  those  who 
fall  by  the  way,  and  I  have  fallen. 

"The  details  cannot  matter.  You  never  had 
patience  for  business  affairs,  my  darling,  so  I  will 
not  weary  you.  But  this  you  must  know:  seeing 
myself  at  the  end  of  our  own  resources,  and  with 
the  many  bills  pressing,  I  allowed  myself  to  be 


16       POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

tempted  into  using  some  of  the  sums  deposited  in 
my  hands.  In  the  hope  of  retrieving  our  fortunes 
I  speculated  with  them — and  there  was  reason  for 
this  hope.  God  knows  I  acted  in  the  firm  belief 
of  harming  no  one.  But  Fate  decided  against  me. 
The  money  is  gone — much  more  than  the  original 
sum;  discoveryis  unavoidable  before  anothertwelve 
hours  are  past ;  and  discovery  means  not  ruin  alone, 
but  an  ignominious  exposure — and  prison.  That 
is  why  the  revolver  is  now  lying  ready.  Evidently 
I  have  no  vocation  for  a  criminal.  The  mere 
shame  of  the  arrest  would  have  killed  me.  It  is 
easier  to  die  by  my  own  hand.  After  the  hard 
fight  of  the  last  years — of  the  last  months,  in  es- 
pecial— that  little  steel  instrument  blinks  at  me 
almost  like  the  eye  of  a  friend.  It  promises  rest, 
if  nothing  else. 

"But,  my  love,  my  beautiful  mistress,  do  not 
suppose  that  because  I  talk  of  a  hard  fight  there 
is  a  single  thought  of  reproach  in  my  mind.  It 
is  myself  only  that  I  blame.  If  we  have  lived 
beyond  our  means  it  was  only  because  I  was  too 
cowardly  to  admit  to  you  our  true  position.  Nor 
could  I  have  borne  to  see  my  Queen  in  mean  sur- 
roundings— not  seated  upon  the  throne  which  is 
her  due.  I  cannot  bear  to  see  it  now.  I  prefer 
to  go.  If  I  was  not  able  to  build  up  that  throne 
I  had  no  right  to  claim  you.  I  am  but  paying  the 
penalty  of  my  presumption. 

"But  you?  My  one  consolation  in  this  final  mo- 


POMP  AND   CIRCUMSTANCE       17 

ment  is  the  thought  of  your  own  small  fortune. 
That  will  at  least  stave  off  misery;  and  the  girls, 
of  course,  will  have  to  work.  My  last  prayer  is 
that  they  prove  a  comfort  to  you.  Dare  I  add 
to  it  the  hope  of  forgiveness?  When  I  think  of 
what  your  life  might  have  been  without  me,  I  can 
only  ask  you  to  think  of  me  as  leniently  as  you 
can.  Do  not  let  my  end  blacken  your  life.  They 
are  not  black  thoughts  that  fill  my  mind  as  I  look 
into  the  past — they  are  golden  thoughts.  The  hap- 
piness I  enjoyed  in  gaining  you  is  more  than  comes 
to  the  lives  of  most  men.  Even  on  the  edge  of 
the  grave  I  still  feel  the  glow  of  it  upon  me,  and 
from  the  bottom  of  my  heart  I  thank  you  for  those 
moments  of  perfect  bliss ! 

"Your  unhappy  and  devoted 

"EDWARD." 

With  the  last  word  he  threw  down  the  pen  and 
once  more  took  his  head  between  his  hands.  Be- 
neath the  electric  light  the  steel  handle  of  the  re- 
volver flashed  aggressively.  There  was  nothing 
remaining  to  do  now  but  to  grasp  it;  but  with  the 
accomplishment  of  his  confession  the  extreme  need 
of  hurry  was  past.  A  respite  of  a  few  minutes 
could  alter  nothing — just  time  enough  for  another 
mental  look  at  that  figure  seen  in  the  doorway,  to 
take  with  him  as  a  last  draught  of  life  into  the 
shadows  of  death.  Had  he  ever  seen  her  more 
beautiful?  Yes — once,  perhaps,  on  that  evening, 


1 8       POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

twenty  years  ago,  when,  in  a  box  of  the  Vienna 
Opera  House,  she  had  first  dawned  upon  his  sight. 
That  time  it  had  been  a  white  and  spotless  vision — 
the  roses  in  her  cheeks  the  only  flowers  that  decked 
her;  her  brilliant  eyes,  her  girlish  grace,  the  only 
jewels  that  adorned.  From  the  moment  that  his 
gaze  had  fallen  upon  her  the  events  upon  the  stage 
no  longer  enjoyed  his  attention.  Steadily,  through- 
out the  three  acts,  his  eyes  returned  to  that  box  in 
the  first  row,  which  for  him  contained  all  the 
beauty  of  the  packed  house.  The  coup  de  foudre 
in  its  most  literal  sense,  and  enduring,  as  lightning 
flashes  are  not  in  the  habit  of  enduring.  Looking 
back  at  it  across  the  gulf  of  twenty  years,  and  with 
those  penetrating  fiddle  notes  pricking  into  his  con- 
sciousness like  so  many  fine  needles,  he  could  still 
feel  the  thrill  of  it  in  his  veins. 

From  that  moment  onward,  and  even  before  an 
introduction  was  obtained,  he  had  been  her  slave. 
It  was  on  that  evening  that  he  had  discovered  the 
real  meaning  of  life. 

There  followed  six  months  filled  by  the  fluctua- 
tions of  hope  and  despair.  Isabella  Feldegg,  a 
recognised  beauty  of  the  circle  in  which  she  moved, 
was  surrounded  by  suitors,  among  whom  he  could 
not,  either  socially  or  financially,  claim  the  first 
place.  True,  his  position  in  the  old-established 
Anglo-Saxon  Bank,  which  for  half  a  century  had 
been  doing  good  business  on  Austrian  soil,  was 
even  then  a  good  one,  his  future  more  than  as- 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE       19 

sured.  But  among  his  rivals  were  men  with  hun- 
dreds of  acres  to  a  titled  name.  When  his  homage 
was  finally  accepted  he  could  scarcely  believe  his 
good  fortune.  Isabella's  friends  did  not  understand 
it  at  all;  and  a  very  few  months  after  the  mar- 
riage Isabella  herself  did  not  understand  it,  either. 
Over-susceptibility  of  the  heart  was  by  no  means 
her  weak  point;  but  she  had  Hungarian  blood  in 
her  veins,  and  Hungarian  fancies  are  inflammable. 
The  tall,  fair-haired  Englishman,  with  the  regular 
features  and  the  blue  eyes — so  different  from  her 
swarthy  countrymen — had  worked  by  contrast 
upon  her  imagination.  His  evident  ardour  had 
ended  by  carrying  her  off  her  feet — for  a  time. 
That  time  had  sufficed  to  fill  his  cup  of  bliss — and 
to  seal  his  fate;  for  Edward  Harding  was  one  of 
those  men  who  are  born  to  live  neither  for  riches, 
fame,  nor  adventure,  nor  even  for  Woman  in  the 
abstract,  but  only  for  one  individual  woman.  Some- 
times men  of  this  especial  category  fail  to  meet 
the  exact  woman  who  holds  the  key  of  their  souls. 
In  that  case  they  walk  through  life  desolately,  even 
in  the  midst  of  what  looks  like  success,  vaguely 
aware  of  not  being  upon  the  right  road.  You  can 
run  against  them  any  day  wandering  up  and  down 
both  the  highways  and  byways  of  life.  Sometimes 
again  they  meet  her,  and  then  they  become  either 
the  most  fortunate  or  the  most  unfortunate  of  men, 
according  to  the  quality  of  their  subjugator.  But 
even  in  failure  and  betrayal  and  wretchedness  they 


20       POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

will  die  with  the  paradoxically  satisfying  feeling 
which  comes  with  the  consciousness  of  a  destiny 
fulfilled. 

All  Harding's  married  life  had  been  one  long 
effort  to  procure  to  the  expensive  picture  he  had 
purchased  the  frame  it  deserved.  And  it  was  a 
very  expensive  picture,  as  he  speedily  discovered. 
Grown  up  as  the  spoilt  child  of  her  own  family, 
Isabella  had  inevitably  become  the  spoilt  child  of 
her  especial  circle.  It  was  unthinkable  that  her 
position  should  in  any  way  deteriorate.  To  slave 
for  her  pleasure  had  been  the  only  pleasure  Hard- 
ing had  ever  known  since  she  had  deigned  to  cross 
his  threshold. 

That  she  should  accept  it  all  serenely,  as  no 
more  than  her  due,  could  not  chill  him.  Rather  it 
fitted  all  the  more  perfectly  into  his  conception  of 
his  "sovereign  lady."  Thus,  with  this  gracious 
condescension,  should  a  queen  take  the  offerings 
laid  at  her  feet.  And  yet,  in  all  but  this,  the  man 
was  no  fool.  Outside  the  field  of  his  love  he  was 
able  to  judge  and  to  observe,  within  it  only  able 
to  worship.  For  the  value  of  any  bonds  on  the 
money  market  he  had  a  keen  eye — none  for  that  of 
a  woman.  Even  when  she  began  to  talk,  half- 
playfully  at  first,  of  the  partis  she  might  have  made 
had  she  chosen — and  this  she  began  to  do  soon 
after  the  honeymoon — his  blindness  was  not  cured. 
In  time  the  remarks  became  less  playful  and  more 
fretful,  without  enlightening  him  further.  The 


POMP  AND   CIRCUMSTANCE      21 

rapture  of  finding  himself  the  favoured  one  among 
so  many  had  bred  in  him  an  ineradicable  gratitude 
which  not  even  she  herself  could  destroy.  Was  it 
not  enough  that  she  should  be  faithful  to  him?  Oh, 
truly,  he  was  blest  beyond  his  deserts. 

Necessarily  his  attitude  towards  his  daughters 
had  suffered  from  the  absorption  of  his  dominating 
feeling.  Though  he  had  in  him  all  the  makings 
of  a  tender  and  affectionate  father,  they  had  been 
cramped  by  the  passion  of  his  life.  You  cannot  do 
two  things  intensely;  one  of  them  is  bound  to  suf- 
fer. The  most  selfless  and  disinterested  of  men, 
he  had  yet  arrived  at  systematically  disregarding 
the  true  interests  of  his  children.  For  selflessness 
of  this  particular  category  often  works  like  egoism 
towards  all  but  the  beloved  object.  Or  perhaps 
it  would  be  truer  to  say  that  it  actually  becomes  a 
variety  of  egoism,  since  the  object  has  grown  into 
a  second  self. 

Of  late  the  material  strain  had  been  intensify- 
ing. Even  the  directorship  of  the  "Anglo-Saxon," 
attained  some  years  ago,  no  longer  sufficed  to  fill 
the  measure  of  his  goddess's  requirements.  With 
the  growing  up  of  two  daughters  it  was  but  nat- 
ural that  household  wants  should  increase.  Irma 
had  to  be  brought  out,  and  she  should  be  brought 
out  in  a  fashion  worthy  of  such  a  mother.  No 
petty  jealousy  of  her  daughter's  younger  charms 
disturbed  Mrs.  Harding.  To  be  a  leader  in  her 
circle,  to  shine  as  a  hostess,  to  see  the  invitations 


22       POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

to  her  house  scrambled  for — such  had  been  her 
dream,  and  in  the  attainment  of  it  her  own  beauty 
was  only  one  ingredient  in  many,  since  personal 
vanity  did  not  happen  to  be  her  foible.  She  re- 
joiced quite  frankly  in  Irma's  good  looks,  as  offer- 
ing not  only  a  better  pretext  for  social  display, 
but  likewise  as  promising  good  things  for  the  fu- 
ture. It  was  as  though  that  social  ambition  which, 
in  a  moment  of  impulse,  had  been  sacrificed  to  a 
passing  sentiment,  had  drawn  from  the  very  defeat 
a  more  furious  determination  to  assert  its  vitality. 

This  Carnival  had  been  the  last  straw  in  Hard- 
ing's  financial  burden.  To  say  "No"  to  Isabella 
when  she  asked  him  for  money  had  seemed  to  him 
so  impossible  that  even  a  breach  of  trust  had  be- 
come possible.  Thus  only  was  it  explicable  that  a 
man  compounded  of  honesty  and  of  the  most  deli- 
cate sense  of  honour  had  become  a  defrauder  and 
virtually  a  thief,  with  no  other  escape  from  shame 
than  that  which  lay  in  the  small,  round  ball  of  the 
loaded  revolver. 

And  now  he  took  it  up  with  a  hand  that  was 
almost  steady,  for  to  be  a  moral  coward  is  not  nec- 
essarily to  be  a  physical  one.  The  dance-music  had 
ceased.  There  had  been  sounds  of  closing  doors 
and  departing  carriages.  Four  strokes  of  the  clock ; 
clearly  the  moment  had  come. 

He  shut  his  eyes  for  one  instant — gathering  his 
resolve  into  one  supreme  effort — then  opened  them 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE       23 

again,  bending  his  head  sideways  towards  the  door. 
A  step  in  the  passage,  and  now  a  quick  knock. 

For  one  moment  he  hesitated,  with  his  finger  on 
the  trigger — was  not  his  reckoning  with  life  closed 
already? — then  softly  put  down  the  wbapon  and, 
hastily  throwing  a  sheet  of  paper  over  it,  went  to 
the  door.  It  had  come  over  him  that  perhaps, 
after  all,  Fate  was  about  to  grant  him  one  more 
sight  of  the  beloved  face.  It  was  a  thought  he 
could  not  resist.  For  that  one  moment  he  would 
be  able  to  command  his  features. 

Going  to  the  door,  he  unlocked  it,  and,  through 
the  narrow  chink,  looked  out  with  burning  eyes. 
Immediately  his  restless  under-lip  fell. 

"You,  Irma?"  was  all  he  said,  in  a  tone  of  flat 
disappointment. 


CHAPTER   III 

AFTER  THE  BALL 

HE  had  kept  held  of  the  door-handle,  not  mean- 
ing to  admit  even  Isabella;  but  his  reckoning  had 
been  made  without  the  keenness  of  Irma's  young 
eyes  or  the  impetuosity  of  her  movements.  Neither 
did  he  know  what  was  written  on  his  face.  At  the 
mere  sight  of  it  shapeless  fear  laid  a  cold  hand  upon 
the  pulsing  gaiety  of  a  minute  back.  Pushing  her 
way  in,  Irma  faced  him  closely. 

"Papa — what  is  it?  You  are  ill?  I  was  sure 
you  must  be.  Why  did  you  not  send  for  me? 
What  is  it,  papa?" 

"Why  should  it  be  anything?  I  am  busy,  Irma. 
Run  away  to  your  bed,  child'!" 

The  miserable  travesty  of  a  smile  could  not  de- 
ceive her. 

"Yes,  it  is  something.  If  you  are  not  ill1,  then 
it  is  something  else.  Why  have  you  still  got  your 
overcoat  on?  Have  you  only  just  come  in?  Is  it 
anything  about  the  bank?" 

Her  eyes  went  instinctively  to  the  writing-table, 
and  fell  there  upon  the  closely  written  sheet,  which 

24 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE       25 

in  his  perturbation  he  had  even  forgotten  to  fold 
together.  Swiftly  she  moved  in  that  direction,  but 
he,  guessing  her  intention,  was  before  her.  She 
saw  another  sheet  pushed  aside,  caught  the  flash 
of  electric  light  upon  polished  steel,  and,  even  be- 
fore she  had  recognised  the  shape  of  the  thing  in 
her  father's  hand,  had  sprung  upon  him. 

There  was  the  struggle  of  a  moment  between 
the  girl  in  the  white  ball-dress  and  the  man  in  the 
overcoat.  One  shot  went  off,  lodging  a  harmless 
ball  in  the  midst  of  a  bookcase,  and  immediately 
afterwards  Irma  hurled  the  revolver  into  a  corner 
of  the  room-,  and,  falling  on  to  a  chair,  burst  into 
passionate  though  uncomprehending  tears.  She 
knew  that  she  had  saved  her  father's  life,  but  she 
did  not  yet  understand  why  she  had  had  to  do  so. 

Harding,  too,  had  sat  down,  silent  and  with 
shaking  hands,  making  no  effort  to  recover  the  still 
loaded  weapon.  The  crisis  of  excitement  which 
had  made  it  seem  possible  to  kill  himself  in  his 
daughter's  presence  was  outstepped — a  dull  reac- 
tion close  at  hand. 

Then,  before  a  word  had  been  spoken,  there  was 
a  step  and  a  rustle  of  skirts,  and  Mrs.  Harding, 
with  the  startled  face  of  Gabrielle  peering  over  her 
shoulder,  stood  in  the  doorway. 

"What  is  the  matter?  What  has  happened? 
Was  not  that  a  shot?" 

At  the  sight  the  unhappy  man  once  more  coy- 
ered  his  face.  So  this  humiliation — the  only  one 


26       POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

he  really  feared — was  not  to  be  spared  him,  after 
all! 

Yet,  after  a  brief  pause,  he  unexpectedly 
straightened  himself  and  rose.  Going  to  the  writ- 
ing-table, he  took  from  it  the  written  sheet  and 
handed  it  to  his  wife. 

"I  wrote  that  for  you,  Isabella,"  he  said,  with 
a  final  renunciation  of  all  hope — even  of  the  hope 
of  mercy — which  was  not  without  its  miserable 
dignity.  "Forgive  me  for  still  being  alive  when 
you  read  it.  This  at  least  is  not  my  fault.  Irma 
came  in  just  one  minute  too  soon." 

Mrs.  Harding,  who,  in  view  of  the  whispering 
servants  at  the  end  of  the  passage,  had  had  the 
presence  of  mind  to  shut  the  door,  took  the  sheet 
with  a  stare  that  was  more  of  astonishment  than 
of  alarm.  Once  or  twice  in  the  dead  pause-  that 
followed  the  paper  rustled  in  her  hand,  and  that, 
beside  the  roll  of  a  carriage  in  the  street*,  was  all 
the  sound — for  Irma's  nervous  sdbs  had  subsided. 
Harding  had  turned  away,  unable,  to  bear  the  sight 
of  the  change  which  he  knew  must  come  over  his 
wife's  face. 

It  came  before  she  had  read  many  lines — the 
sudden  widening  of  the  eyes,  the  rush  of  dark 
blood  to  the  face.  For  a  moment  after  she  had 
reached  the  last  word  she  stood  there  fixed  as  stiffly 
as  the  bodies  of  those  struck  by  lightning  are  said 
occasionally  to  remain  immobilised  into  the  most 
unlikely  attitudes. 


POMP  AND   CIRCUMSTANCE       27 

When  she  spoke  at  last  it  was  with  a  curious 
thickness  of  tone,  into  which  the  excitement  had 
not  yet  fairly  struggled. 

He  began  by  only  bowing  his  head. 

"Is  this  true?" 

Already  the  tone  was  rising  and  sharpening. 

"It  is  true — unhappily." 

"We  are  ruined,  and  you  are — a  defrauder?" 

"Isabella,"  he  said,  with  bleached  lips,  "I  have 
written  the  words;  will  you  make  me  speak  them 
as  well?" 

"Answer  me!"  she  commanded,  her  eyes,  that 
were  beginning  to  blaze,  fastened  hard  upon  his 
face. 

"We  are  ruined,  and  I  have  broken  my  trust." 
He  said  the  words  dully,  mechanically,  though  they 
represented  to  him  the  very  dregs  in  the  cup  of 
expiation. 

For  another  moment  she  stood  almost  immova- 
ble, her  mind  struggling  to  tpke  in  the  enormity  of 
the  thing.  During  that  moment  the  blaze  in  her 
eyes  turned  slowly  to  a  glare. 

"Ruined — a  defrauder — the  end  of  all — ah,  my 
God!" 

Between  the  short  phrases  the  yellow  roses  on 
her  breast  heaved  tumultuously.  "So  this  is  the 
end  of  all!" 

And  then,  regardless  of  the  two  startled  girls' 
faces,  the  disappointment  of  a  lifetime  broke 
bounds.  Beneath  her  superb  exterior,  behind  her 


28       POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

majestic  presence,  there  had  always  lived  one  of 
those  common  souls  who  seek  their  first  relief  in 
words  and  in  gestures.  The  very  vitality  of  her 
personality  made  the  words  loud  and  the  gestures 
emphatic;  for  she  had  in  her  the  blood  of  a  race 
in  which  the  elementary  passions  never  lie  very 
far  below  the  surface.  If  at  this  moment  she  did 
not  sink  to  the  level  of  the  typical  virago  it  was 
only  because  the  habits  of  education  cannot  be  un- 
learned at  so  short  a  notice.  Within  the  space  of 
a  few  minutes  the  grievances  of  twenty  years  were 
unpacked;  all  that  chronic  grudge  harboured 
against  the  man  who,  by  crossing  her  path  in  her 
heedless  youth,  had  robbed  her  of  a  more  brilliant 
destiny,  found  utterance.  So  long  as  he  was  able  to 
satisfy  her  wants  he  might  be  forgiven;  but  from 
the  moment  that  he  failed  in  the  eyes  of  the  world 
he  was  necessarily  lost  in  hers.  The  sight  of  his 
despair,  the  depth  of  his  self-humiliation,  could  not 
touch  her,  for  the  simple  reason  that  she  was  not 
clearly  aware  of  them.  The  fall  from  an  hour 
ago — from  five  minutes  ago — had  been  too  rude 
to  have  let  her  as  yet  recover  more  than  the  con- 
sciousness of  her  own  wrong.  Had  she  seen  him 
with  the  revolver  in  his  hand,  as  Irma  had  seen 
him,  it  is  probable  that  the  sight  would  have  ap- 
pealed to  her  nerves,  at  least,  if  not  to  her  sensi- 
bility. But  not  having  seen  him  so,  she  could  see 
nothing  but  this  personal  wrong,  which,  in  truth, 
was  great,  since  not  even  love  can  condone  cow- 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE       29 

ardice.  Nor  was  any  tenderness  for  the  culprit 
there  to  disarm  her.  What  she  had  ever  felt  for 
the  man  before  her  had  been  no  more- than  a  flame 
upon  a  stone;  and  the  flame,  once  burnt  out,  had 
left  the  stone  unsoftened — at  most,  blackened  by 
the  ashes  of  the  dead  fire. 

While  she  spoke  he  listened,  pale  as  death, 
steadying  himself  by  the  back  of  a  chair,  yet  un- 
able to  lower  his  eyes.  In  spite  of  all  the  shame 
of  this  bitterest  of  all  moments,  it  was  impossible 
to  renounce  the  sight  of  his  accuser.  The  pas- 
sionate admiration  carried  the  day  over  the  crush- 
ing humiliation.  So  long  as  it  was  still  granted 
him  he  would  rest  his  eyes  upon  her.  If  her  in- 
dignant glances  killed  him,  so  much  the  better;  it 
was  the  death,  of  all  others,  he  would  have  chosen. 
Even  quivering  beneath  her  reproaches,  he  could 
not  but  exult  in  her  strength.  Another  woman 
would  have  broken  down  into  hysterical  tears,  while 
she  stood  upright,  pouring  out  her  displeasure,  as 
it  became  a  queen  to  do.  That  it  was  a  queenship 
that  savoured  more  of  the  footlights  than  of  the 
Court  was  a  fact  lost  upon  his  lover's  eyes.  No 
thought  of  self-defence  so  much  as  visited  him. 

"I  had  no  right  to  marry  you,  Isabella ;  I  know 
it,"  he  murmured  sadly  when,  exhausted  by  her 
own  passion,  she  paused  at  last.  Upon  which  she 
said  the  cruel  word: 

"No — you  had  no  right." 

The  girls,  shocked  and  bewildered  listeners,  as 


30       POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

completely  ignored  as  though  they  had  been  empty 
air,  were  only  just  beginning  to  read  the  true  sig- 
nificance of  the  scene.  Gabrielle,  with  pale  blue 
eyes  widely  opened,  had  instinctively  retreated  as 
though  before  some  physical  danger,  and  stood 
flattened  against  the  wall,  looking  in  the  first  long 
dress  she  had  ever  worn — a  dress  which  still  mer- 
cifully covered  her  immature  neck  and  arms — like 
a  child  that  is  too  frightened  even  to  cry.  Irma 
was  not  crying,  either,  now.  From  the  floor  she 
had  picked  up  the  paper  which  from  her  mother's 
fingers  had  fluttered  to  her  feet,  and  had  bent  her 
head  over  it. 

And  then  there  happened  one  of  those  things 
which  do  not  happen  more  than  once  in  a  lifetime 
— if  they  happen  at  all.  What  passed  within  her 
soul  during  the  few  minutes  which  she  took  to  read 
her  father's  confession  does  not  come  to  every  life. 
The  anguish,  the  unarmed  surrender  of  the  words, 
seemed  to  reach  down  a  hand,  deep,  deep  down  into 
an  unsuspected  abyss,  to  stir  up  things  which  she 
had  never  known  to  be  there,  to  take  hold  of  things 
which  until  then  had  not  seemed  to  exist.  It  was 
one  of  those  rapid  and  violent  processes  which,  un- 
der the  pressure  of  circumstances,  sometimes, 
though  rarely,  effect  what  it  takes  years  of  normal 
life  to  reach,  the  sharp,  painful  birth  of  a  woman's 
soul  within  what  has  hitherto  been  the  individuality 
of  a  child.  What  she  read  here,  written  by  a  hand 
which  had  visibly  jerked,  was  a  revelation  so  sud- 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE      31 

den  and  uncompromising  as  to  be  almost  blind- 
ing. It  all  depended  upon  whether  the  eyes  that 
beheld  it  were  strong  enough  or  not  to  bear  the 
merciless  glare. 

With  the  paper  in  her  lap  and  her  mother's  re- 
proaches ringing  in  her  ears,  she  sat  trying  to  re- 
view the  case.  She  had  always  felt  more  leaning 
towards  her  father  than  her  mother,  perhaps  be- 
cause she  had  understood  that  her  mother  did  not 
need  her,  while  her  father  possibly  might.  Be- 
hind Mrs.  Harding's  regal  indulgence  she  had  di- 
vined a  want  of  tenderness;  but  hitherto  life  had 
been  too  smooth  and  easy  to  let  the  lack  of  the  true 
maternal  accent  become  unpleasantly  conspicuous. 
It  was  under  the  stress  of  this  moment  only  that 
the  latent  impression  became  acute.  As,  with  new 
eyes,  she  looked  at  the  figure  in  black  velvet,  whose 
lips  still  moved  and  whose  voice  still  rang  out,  she 
began  to  understand.  And  from  there  she  looked 
towards  her  father — with  new  eyes,  too,  into  which 
hot  tears  again  rose  suddenly.  At  thought  of  what 
the  last  minutes,  the  last  hours — those  hours  spent 
by  herself  in  laughing  gaiety — must  have  been  to 
him,  an  immense  pity  gripped  her  heart.  Higher 
within  her  and  higher  were  the  two  tides  rising: 
the  tide  of  pity  on  one  side,  of  indignation  on  the 
other.  And  now,  at  another  word  of  her  mother's, 
they  overflowed. 

"My  friends  did  what  they  could  to  prevent  my 
marriage,"  Mrs.  Harding  was  bitterly  saying,  "and 


32       POMP  AND  CIRCUiMSTANCE 

yet  they  did  not  know  that  I  was  to  end  as  the  wife 
of  a  criminal." 

It  was  then  that  Irma  sprang  to  her  feet. 

"Not  a  criminal!  No,  it  is  not  he  who  is 
guilty!" 

With  shining  eyes  she  faced  her  mother. 

Mrs.  Harding,  from  sheer  surprise,  was  silent 
for  a  moment.  To  do  her  justice,  she  had  com- 
pletely forgotten  her  daughter's  presence.  Then 
she  spoke  haughtily: 

"You  understand  nothing  of  this,  Irma.  By 
the  letter  of  the  law  defraudation  is  a  crime.  We 
are  all  lost." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  understand — far  better  than  I  ever 
did  before,  and  I  don't  care  anything  about  the 
letter  of  the  law.  It  is  not  papa  who  is  the  real 
culprit;  it  is  we  who  are  guilty;  we  have  been 
amusing  ourselves  while  he  has  been  toiling  and — 
plotting  to  get  the  money  we  needed." 

"Irma!" 

The  reproachful  word  came  not  from  her 
mother,  but  from  her  father.  It  was  with  a  sort  of 
shocked  surprise  and  a  deprecating  glance  towards 
his  wife  that  he  greeted  the  advent  of  this  un- 
looked-for defender. 

Slowly  Mrs.  Harding  measured  her  daughter 
from  head  to  foot.  Was  this,  indeed,  her  daugh- 
ter? 

"Why  use  the  plural?"  she  asked,  with  an  icy 
coldness  succeeding  to  the  heat  of  a  minute  ago. 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE       33 

"Why  not  tell  me  to  my  face  that  it  is  all  my 
fault?" 

Irma's  lips  moved  impulsively  and  then  tightly 
closed.  But  though  the  words  hovering  there  were 
not  spoken,  Mrs.  Harding  could  read  them  plainly 
in  her  daughter's  unabashed  eyes,  and  actually 
paled  a  little.  To  see  a  judge  risen  in  her  child 
was  the  last  thing  she  had  expected. 

"Ah — so  this  is  the  gratitude  I  have  earned  for 
bringing  you  up  as  I  have  done,  for  giving  you 
every  social  advantage  in  my  power,  for  trying  to 
secure  your  future " 

"Don't  listen  to  her,  Isabella;  she  doesn't  know 
what  she  is  saying,"  pleaded  the  poor  bankrupt. 
But  Mrs.  Harding  did  not  even  look  at  him;  all 
her  attention  was  now  for  this  most  astonishing 
daughter  of  hers. 

"You  had  no  right  to  bring  us  up  as  you  have 
done,  unless  we  had  the  money,"  said  Irma,  un- 
shaken. In  the  virulence  of  her  new-born  indigna- 
tion there  was  no  room  even  for  just  considerations. 

"And  could  I  know  that  we  had  not  the  money, 
when  your  father  persistently  hid  from  me  the  true 
state  of  our  fortunes?" 

The  consciousness  that  the  question  sounded  like 
an  attempt  at  self-justification  made  the  tone  all 
the  haughtier. 

"He  did  that  only  because  he  was  too  fond  of 
you.  You  made  it  too  difficult  to  him  to  speak 
the  truth." 


34       POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

Once  more  the  blood  surged  to  Mrs.  Hoarding's 
face.  For  a  short  space  the  ample  figure  in  black 
velvet  and  the  slight  figure  in  white  tulle,  whose 
only  ornament  was  the  bunch  of  crushed  and  faded 
violets  upon  the  breast,  stood  opposite  to  each 
other,  eye  in  eye. 

"You  are  a  fool,  Irma,"  broke  out  Mrs.  Hard- 
ing, after  that  pause.  "What  makes  you  interfere  ? 
Has  your  father  thanked  you  for  coming  in  when 
you  did?" 

"Perhaps  you,  too,  think  that  I  came  in  too 
soon?"  asked  Irma,  with  quivering  nostrils. 

"Irma!" 

Mrs.  Harding's  eyes  shifted  a  little  as  she  said 
the  indignant  word.  Was  it  perhaps  because  of 
the  thought  which  might  possibly  be  written  in 
their  depths — the  almost  unavoidable  thought  that 
a  revolver-shot  is  often  a  wonderfully  simple  solu- 
tion of  impossible-looking  situations  ? 

Perhaps  Irma  had,  after  all,  caught  a  glimmer 
of  that  thought,  for  some  impulse  made  her  just 
then  move  to  her  father's  side,  her  hand  upon  his 
arm. 

"Papa !  papa !  Ah,  I  am  so  glad  I  came  in !  I 
want  you  to  live.  You  belong  to  me  now." 

Across  the  room  Mrs.  Harding  viewed  them 
from  under  artificially  lowered  eyelids. 

"And  what  do  you  mean  to  do  with  him,  now 
that  he  belongs  to  you?" 

"I  mean  to  save  him  in  spite  of  himself." 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE      35 

"By  going  to  prison  with  him?" 

"No — I  shall  keep  him  out  of  prison.  Tell  me, 
papa,"  and  she  looked  up  into  his  face,  her  brows 
knit  in  the  effort  of  thought,  "is  there  no  chance 
of  replacing  the  money  which  you  have — used?" 

He  shook  his  head  vaguely. 

"Is  the  sum  so  large?  But  perhaps  part  of  it — 
there  is  mamma's  fortune — would  not  that  help 
at  least  to " 

Mrs.  Harding  laughed  harshly. 

"Really,  Irma,  you're  a  greater  fool  than  I  took 
you  for,  as  though  it  were  not  bad  enough  to  have 
nothing  but  dry  bread  remaining  to  put  into  my 
mouth,  but  you  seem  to  expect  me  to  throw  even 
that  away!  The  one  mercy  in  the  whole  affair  is 
that  my  money  cannot  be  touched." 

"No,  no,"  said  Harding,  hastily,  "not  that — it 
is  not  to  be  thought  of.  Besides,  it  would  only  be 
a  drop  in  the  bucket." 

As  Irma  looked  from  one  to  the  other  the  re- 
vealing light  burned  brighter  and  brighter. 

"Then,  of  course,  there  is  nothing  for  it  but 
flight.  We  can  hide.  People  often  do.  The  world 
is  big.  We  shall  go  away  somewhere  where  they 
cannot  find  us." 

"We?"  repeated  Mrs.  Harding,  sharply. 

"Yes,  of  course,  we.  Do  you  think  I  would  let 
him  go  alone?  I  know  how  that  would  end." 

"This  is  moonshine  madness.  You  cannot  mean 
to  pass  your  life  in  dodging  the  police?" 


36       POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

"I  mean  to  pass  it  where  papa  is." 

Mrs.  Harding,  speechless,  contemplated  her 
daughter.  Perhaps  because  she  had  never  before 
seen  her  in  the  grip  of  a  deep  emotion  she  had  never 
quite  realised  how  beautiful  she  was.  It  was  a  rec- 
ognition which  added  greatly  to  the  exasperation 
of  the  moment. 

"You?"  she  broke  out  in  a  new  fit  of  vehemence, 
"you  to  live  out  your  life  in  a  hole!  But  you  don't 
understand  what  you  are  doing,  child !  Don't  you 
see  that  by  devoting  yourself  to  this — this  unfortu- 
nate man  you  are  identifying  yourself  with  his 
cause?  Let  him  fly,  by  all  means,  but  let  him  fly 
alone.  Your  accompanying  him  would  be  but  a 
useless  sacrifice.  He  cannot  be  so  great  an  egoist 
as  to  demand  it.  It  is  your  whole  future,  every 
chance  you  have  in  life,  that  is  in  play — and  those 
chances  are  small  enough  now,  Heaven  knows !  As 
the  daughter  of  your  father  it  is  not  likely  you  will 
ever  find  a  husband;  but  by  his  side  and  espousing 
his  cause  you  are  certain  not  to.  Think,  Irma, 
think  before  you  commit  this  folly!" 

Her  rich  voice  vibrated  with  sincerity,  and  with 
what,  for  the  moment,  was  true  feeling.  That  which 
Irma  proposed  to  surrender  was  in  her  eyes  too 
precious  not  to  arouse  the  mother  in  her. 

For  all  answer  Irma  shook  her  head,  and,  draw- 
ing a  little  closer  to  her  father,  clasped  her  second 
hand  around  his  arm.  He  had  not  spoken  for  sev- 
eral minutes,  while  his  dazed  eyes  went  from  one 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE       37 

face  to  the  other.  They  came  back  to  Irma  now, 
with  an  astonished  gratitude  beginning  to  dawn  in 
their  blankness.  After  the  first  shock,  almost  of 
displeasure,  he  was  coming  to  realise  that,  after  all, 
he  did  not  stand  quite  alone,  quite  abandoned.  As 
Irma  felt  his  fingers  stealing  round  hers  with  a  fur- 
tive, clinging  movement  she  was  aware  of  a  new 
glow,  the  strongest  and  purest  emotion  that  had 
yet  come  to  her  life.  It  made  her  feel  able  for 
anything. 

"Choose!"  said  Mrs.  Harding,  in  a  thinly  veiled 
fury.  "Choose  between  him  and  me!" 

"I  have  chosen  already.  I  will  never  let  him 
go  alone.  It  would  be  the  same  as  putting  back 
the  revolver  into  his  hand." 

Mrs.  Harding  gazed  for  a  moment  longer  at 
her  daughter,  and  during  that  moment  all  those 
hopes  which  had  been  built  upon  the  girl's  beauty 
seemed  to  pass  before  her  mind's  eye,  as  in  a  mock- 
ing procession.  What  wonder  that  the  pallor  of 
rage  should  slowly  overspread  her  face  ? 

"Then  you  had  better  be  quick  about  it,"  she 
said  at  last,  with  a  final  touch  of  brutality,  "or  else 
the  police  may  be  upon  us." 

"Yes — we  shall  be  quick." 

Irma  laid  her  hand  over  her  eyes,  as  though  to 
clear  her  thoughts. 

The  next  question  was  a  sneer. 

"And  where  do  you  mean  to  hide,  if  I  may  ask?" 

"I  don't  know.     In  America,  I  suppose.     Papa" 


38       POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

— and  dropping  her  hand  from  his  arm,  she  took 
hold  of  both  his,  pressing  them  hard  together — 
"only  pack  your  things,  and  leave  the  rest  to  me. 
You  have  a  new  time-table,  have  you  not?" 

She  spoke  in  a  quick  tone  of  business-like  de- 
cision, come  to  her  on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  and 
already  she  was  by  the  writing-table  with  the  time- 
table in  her  hand. 

"It  had  better  be  Hamburg,"  she  pronounced 
after  a  minute,  during  which  the  other  members  of 
the  family — not  excluding  her  mother — had  stood 
looking  at  her  in  helpless  silence.  "Once  there  we 
can  decide  where  to  sail  for.  There  is  an  express 
for  Berlin  at  7  :2O — it  is  not  yet  five  now.  Can 
you  be  ready  to  start  by  half-past  six,  papa?  I 
shall  change  my  dress,  and  Gabrielle  will  help  me  to 
pack.  But" — her  forehead  went  into  a  perplexed 
fold — "we  need  money,  of  course.  Have  you  any 
at  all?" 

Harding  signified  mechanically  that  he  had. 

"That  is  well.  And  I  will  take  what  jewels  I 
have.  They  may  be  useful.  Now  lose  no  time, 
papa,  and  I  will  lose  none." 

She  turned  to  the  door;  then,  remembering  some- 
thing, turned  back  and  walked  deliberately  to  the 
corner  of  the  room  into  which  she  had  flung  the 
revolver.  Picking  it  up,  she  went  straight  past  her 
mother  with  the  weapon  in  her  hand. 

When,  a  few  minutes  later,  with  a  dressing-gown 
wrapped  around  her,  and  her  white  ball-dress  mak- 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE      39 

ing  an  untidy  heap  upon  the  bed,  she  was  busy  be- 
tween an  open  trunk  and  many  open  drawers, 
Gabrielle's  scared  face  appeared  in  the  doorway. 

"May  I  come  in,  Irma?" 

"Of  course  you  may.  I've  been  waiting  for  you. 
There,  just  take  out  all  the  stockings  in  this  drawer, 
and  see  how  many  you  can  pack  into  the  corners  of 
this  tray." 

Gabrielle  slipped  in;  but  it  was  not  to  look  out 
the  stockings — it  was  to  throw  her  thin  arms 
around  her  sister's  neck  and  burst  into  tears. 

"Ah,  Irma,  I  can't  believe  it!  It  is  all  too  hor- 
rible! And  are  you  really,  really  going  away?" 

Irma  kissed  her,  a  trifle  impatiently,  as  she  dis- 
engaged herself  from  the  clinging  embrace. 

"Yes,  I  am  going;  I  have  to  go.  But  this  does 
not  make  it  easier  for  me,  Gabrielle." 

"But  after  you  have  taken  him  away  could  you 
not  come  back  again?" 

"Impossible!  He  needs  me.  He  has  nobody  else; 
not  even  you,  it  seems.  Do  you,  too,  think  him  the 
only  guilty  person  ?" 

Before  the  defiant  flash  of  the  eyes  with  which 
her  sister  turned  upon  her  Gabrielle  visibly  shrunk ; 
for  she,  too,  had  by  this  time  grasped  the  chief  facts 
of  the  family  debacle,  and,  not  being  absolutely  a 
fool,  had  drawn  some  conclusions.  Her  sharp,  un- 
finished face,  which  was  not  without  a  sort  of  in- 
significant prettiness,  became  visibly  disturbed. 


40       POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

"No;  poor  papa!  I  do  not  want  to  blame  him. 
It  must  have  been  very  difficult  for  him." 

"And  it  was  mamma  who  made  it  difficult.  You 
must  see  that  now,  as  well  as  I,"  said  Irma,  fever- 
ishly collecting  handkerchiefs  the  while. 

"I — I  suppose  so." 

"Then  why  did  you  not  stand  by  him  now,  in  the 
study?  Why  did  you  not  say  one  word  in  his  de- 
fence?" 

Gabrielle's  washed-out-looking  eyes  shifted  un- 
easily about  the  room. 

"It  wouldn't  have  done  any  good  to  speak.  It 
would  only  have  made  mamma  angrier.  You  made 
her  angry  enough  already." 

"You  can't  mean  to  say  that  you  blame  me  for 
it?" 

Irma's  voice  came  up  from  the  depths  of  the 
trunk  before  which  she  was  now  kneeling  with 
laden  hands. 

"N-no.  But  I  wonder  at  you.  I  find  it  so  diffi- 
cult to  believe  that  you  are  going  to  have  to  run 
away  from  the  police,  and  live,  heaven  knows  how ! 
Tell  me,  Irma" — and  the  angular  child's  face  be- 
came as  sharp  in  expression  as  it  was  in  lines,  as 
some  fibre  of  business  instinct  (inherited,  doubtless, 
from  the  English  side  of  the  family)  pierced  to 
the  surface — "how  are  you  going  to  live?  I  don't 
believe  you  have  thought  of  that  at  all." 

"Ah !  I  shall  give  lessons,  I  suppose.  After  all, 
I've  learned  a  lot  of  things;  that  part  of  the  money 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE       41 

spent  is  not  lost,  anyway;  and  I  know  several  lan- 
guages. When  one  is  young  and  strong,  and  not  a 
fool,  there  must  be  ways  of  gaining  money." 

"I  wonder  if  I  shall  have  to  give  lessons,  too?" 
Gabrielle  sighed. 

She  had  sat  down  upon  the  bed  beside  the  cast- 
off  ball-dress,  and,  by  way  of  assisting  her  sister, 
was  reflectively  turning  over  a  boxful  of  ribbons 
which  lay  there.  The  business  instinct  does  not  nec- 
essarily always  produce  true  helpfulness. 

"Probably  not.  You  will  have  the  benefit  of 
mamma's  private  fortune,  you  know." 

She  had  not  meant  to  be  scornful ;  yet  it  is  diffi- 
cult not  to  speak  scornfully  when  you  feel  so. 

Gabrielle's  eyes,  barely  dry,  filled  again  with  tears 
of  mortification. 

"How  unkindly  you  say  that,  Irma !  And  when 
we  are  not  going  to  see  each  other  again  for  Heav- 
en knows  how  long !  Perhaps  never  again !  I  can't 
help  it  if  I  have  not  got  as  much  courage  as  you, 
though  I'm  sure  I  like  papa  quite  as  much." 

Irma  got  quickly  to  her  feet. 

"Gabrielle,  I  did  not  mean  it!  I'm  just  talking 
at  random.  It's  all  so  bewildering.  Of  course  you 
must  stay  with  mamma  and  take  care  of  her,  and 
I  will  take  care  of  papa.  It  is  the  only  possible  ar- 
rangement. But,  ah,  yes !  it  is  hard  upon  us." 

And,  in  the  midst  of  the  open  boxes  and  the  sug- 
gestive disorder  of  the  room,  the  two  sisters  ran, 
weeping,  into  each  other's  arms. 


PART  II 
CHAPTER  I 

UPON  THE  SHELF 

"CERTAINLY,  my  dear,  certainly — just  as  you 
like!"  beamed  Sir  Christian  Denholm  over  the  top 
of  his  claret-glass. 

It  was  his  answer  to  his  eldest  daughter,  who 
had  just  asked  him  to  take  her  to  the  Whistler  ex- 
hibition next  day.  It  was  his  usual  answer  to  most 
things  asked  of  him — by  women,  at  any  rate, 
whether  old  or  young — but  especially  young. 

Sir  Christian  was  a  tall  and  highly  ornamental 
old  gentleman,  with  a  fine  aquiline  nose,  brilliant 
grey  eyes,  and  snow-white  hair  of  that  fly-away  sort 
which  unavoidably  suggests  dandelion  fluff.  The 
elegance  of  his  appearance,  the  perfection  of  his 
manners  and  the  suavity  of  his  disposition  made 
him  a  marked  man  in  every  drawing-room.  Ur- 
banity and  suavity  are  useful  qualities,  especially 
to  diplomats,  and  it  was  in  the  diplomatic  field  that 
Sir  Christian  had  gathered  whatever  laurels  still 
decked  his  exceedingly  fine  brow.  And  yet  even  of 

43 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE      43 

good  things  one  can  have  too  much.  People  who 
knew  Sir  Christian  a  little  found  it  difficult  to  un- 
derstand how  he  had  made  his  career,  since  a  diplo- 
mat must,  after  all,  be  able  to  say  No,  as  well  as 
Yes,  and  be  the  No  wrapped  in  ever  so  becoming 
a  disguise.  People  who  knew  him  better  thought 
they  understood,  and  hinted,  smiling,  that  Sir  Chris- 
tian had  always  been  "a  woman's  man,"  and  that 
there  are  few  political  pies  in  Europe  into  which  a 
fair  finger  is  not  occasionally  inserted.  The  salons 
of  embassies  not  infrequently  represent  the  field 
upon  which,  not  the  great  battles,  indeed,  but  the 
preliminary  and  supplementary  skirmishes  of  diplo- 
matic warfare,  are  waged,  and  upon  this  delicate 
ground  a  "woman's  man"  has  occasionally  got  ad- 
vantages not  enjoyed  by  even  the  geniuses  of  the 
profession. 

Yet  the  disadvantages  were  there,  too.  There 
were  people  who  maintained  that  if  asked  by  a  suffi- 
ciently handsome  woman  to  oblige  her  by  handing 
over  some  such  trifle  as  an  English  colony  to  the 
nation  represented  by  her — the  beauty's — husband, 
Sir  Christian  might  be  backed  to  answer:  "Cer- 
tainly, my  dear,  certainly — just  as  you  like."  In 
fact,  it  was  asserted  that  his  abrupt  and  somewhat 
premature  withdrawal  from  the  scene  had  been 
caused  by  some  such  incident.  These  same  spiteful 
people  quoted  a  story,  dating  from  the  days  of  Sir 
Christian's  attacheship,  according  to  which  a  certain 
award  of  honour,  presented  to  him  by  a  sovereign, 


44       POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

had  been  recognised  by  the  side  of  some  star  of  the 
ballet  masquerading  in  male  attire  at  an  opera  re- 
doute.  When  asked  for  the  loan  of  the  quasi- 
sacred  article,  how  else  could  he  answer — the 
"star's"  eyes  being  very  bright,  mind  you — than  by 
his  favourite  formula?  Indeed,  it  seemed  not  un- 
likely that,  if  awakened  suddenly  in  the  night,  he 
would,  with  eyes  still  closed,  begin  by  murmuring: 
"Certainly,  my  dear,"  etc. 

But  this  (the  sword-of-honour  incident)  was  an- 
cient history,  belonging  to  the  time  before  there 
had  been  any  Lady  Denholm  to  consider. 

There  was  no  Lady  Denholm  to  consider  now. 
She  had  succumbed  to  malarial  fever  during  the 
term  of  her  husband's  Roman  appointment.  To 
make  up,  there  were  two  Miss  Denholms,  both 
small  and  fair-haired,  with  delicate,  high-bred  fea- 
tures of  a  slightly  shiny  whiteness  which  suggested 
porcelain,  and  almost  of  the  grain  of  porcelain,  too. 
With  the  aid  of  that  hair  and  of  that  skin  it  was 
not  hard  to  reconstruct  the  dead  mother.  The  com- 
parison to  Dresden  china  figures  was  equally  ob- 
vious; it  "jumped  to  the  eyes,"  in  the  French  turn 
of  phrase.  Both  were  training  severely  for  diplo- 
matists' wives.  It  was  the  only  thing  worth  living 
for,  as  matters  struck  them.  And  what  wonder, 
either,  seeing  that  the  air  of  embassies  was  the  only 
air  which  their  mental  lungs  had  learned  to  assimi- 
late ?  Bred  upon  alliances  and  suckled  upon  ententes 
cordiales,  their  youthful  years  had,  even  in  the  nur- 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE      45 

sery,  been  filled  with  the  names  of  statesmen  of  all 
nations,  their  youthful  heads  been  patted  by  the 
most  various  sovereigns ;  stray  threads  of  diplomatic 
gossip  had  been  worked  into  the  very  samplers  of 
the  schoolroom ;  while  the  transformation  of  scene 
brought  by  each  new  appointment  gave  to  life  a 
touch  of  exalted  vagrancy,  full  of  pleasant  surprises. 
The  shelving  of  Sir  Christian,  a  year  back,  had  been 
a  bitter  moment.  It  was  quite  a  comfortable  shelf, 
as,  indeed,  the  look  of  the  dining-room  attested; 
but  it  seemed  painfully  flat  after  the  stimulating 
ups  and  downs  of  cosmopolitan  existence.  They 
loved  England,  of  course,  since  it  was  their  coun- 
try ;  but  they  discovered  that  they  had  loved  it  better 
when  seen  from  a  French  or  Russian  perspective. 
There  they  were  England,  while  here  no  more  than 
undistinguishable  British  atoms.  Not  even  the  Lon- 
don season  could  offer  compensation  for  so  much 
loss  of  personal  importance.  What  excitement  could 
a  ballroom  hold  compared  to  the  commotion  of  a 
wired  chiffre  arriving  in  the  dead  of  night?  And 
how  could  Hurlingham  vie  with  the  trepidation  of 
an  audience  in  times  of  crisis,  when  war  or  peace 
might  hang  upon  the  turn  of  a  phrase  to  be  uttered 
within  the  next  hour  by  the  same  lips  that  have  just 
said  "Good  morning"  to  you? 

No,  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  try  and  re- 
enter  the  promised  land,  by  the  matrimonial  gate, 
of  course.  Neither  Chrissie  nor  Cissy  doubted  that 
their  time  would  come.  Meanwhile  they  worked 


46       POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

hard — at  languages,  principally,  as  well  as  at  an 
intelligent  study  of  politics.  Also  at  the  acquisition 
of  those  social  virtues — likely  to  be  useful  to  the 
hostess  of  such  a  salon  as  both  dreamt  of  one  day 
presiding  over;  though,  could  they  have  seen  them- 
selves "as  others  see  us,"  they  would  probably  have 
recognised  that  a  Watteau  shepherdess  attire  would 
have  been  their  most  becoming  costume,  and  to  lead 
about  a  white  lamb — by  a  blue  ribbon,  of  course — 
their  true  vocation  in  life.  Probably  they  would 
have  looked  best  upon  a  mantelpiece.  A  pair  of 
them,  too!  Nothing  could  have  been  more  com- 
plete. Yet,  not  seeing  themselves — maybe,  merci- 
fully— they  dreamed  on  their  dream,  unhampered 
by  doubts. 

The  person  who  sat  at  the  foot  of  the  table  bore 
a  certain  responsibility  for  these  dreams.  This  was 
old  Lady  Aurelia  Mulhampton,  the  Dresden  shep- 
herdesses' grandmother,  privately  known  to  her 
friends  as  "Lady  Mummy."  She  had  a  long,  nar- 
row face,  which,  by  candle-light,  showed  the  tint  of 
a  lemon,  and  which  daylight  deepened  very  nearly 
to  that  of  an  orange;  a  mouth  that  had  grown  al- 
most invisible  owing  to  the  disappearance  of  its 
natural  supports,  and  a  pair  of  wickedly  bright, 
little,  black  eyes — the  only  things  about  her  not  vis- 
ibly octogenarian.  Whatever  hair  she  might  still 
happen  to  possess  was  entirely  covered  by  a  costly 
lace  cap,  from  under  which  not  so  much  as  a  wisp 
escaped  to  humanise  the  parchment  countenance. 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE       47 

Since  her  daughter's  death  she  had  presided  over 
Sir  Christian's  household,  far  more  successfully 
than  poor  Edith  herself  had  ever  done.  The  widow 
of  a  distinguished  diplomat,  and  having  for  many 
years  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  whole  corps  dip- 
lomat'iques  tremble  before  the  utterances  of  her 
caustic  tongue,  she  had  successfully  married  her  only 
child  to  one  of  the  profession,  and  hoped  in  time  to 
see  her  grandchildren  treading  the  path  which  was 
rapidly  becoming  hereditary.  Diplomacy,  which, 
after  all,  consists  in  getting  the  better  of  other  peo- 
ple, suited  her  down  to  the  ground.  But  though 
she  had  chosen  her  son-in-law  herself,  she  was  not 
particularly  proud  of  him.  Privately,  despite  his 
superficial  brilliancy,  she  considered  him  more  or 
less  of  a  fraud.  To  ruffle  his  tiresome  serenity  by 
introducing  some  thorny  question  was  her  especial 
delight.  She  had  a  whole  collection  of  these  little 
bones  of  contention  which  it  was  her  habit  to  pro- 
duce whenever  her  nervous  system  demanded  the 
stimulus  of  a  dispute. 

Since  his  retirement  the  bones  of  contention  were 
more  frequently  produced.  It  was,  indeed,  hard 
to  forgive  him  for  his  virtual  disgrace.  Despite 
her  eighty-one  summers  (or,  perhaps,  winters), 
Lady  Aurelia  was  the  member  of  the  family  who 
fretted  most  visibly  upon  the  shelf. 

Yes,  Christian  had  ended  disappointingly.  But, 
luckily,  there  was  Vincent.  Upon  Vincent  Lady 
Aurelia  placed  even  greater  hopes  than  upon  his 


48 

father.  The  future,  which,  with  his  abilities,  his 
ambition — and,  of  course,  the  "right  sort  of  mar- 
riage" to  help — Vincent  was  bound  to  attain, 
formed  the  brightest  star  upon  the  horizon  of  the 
fallen  family.  The  discussion  of  the  possibilities 
open  to  him  was  the  staple  subject  of  conversation 
which  neither  wearied  nor  grew  stale,  and  to  which 
— Whistler  being  disposed  of — the  talk  at  the  din- 
ner-table had  returned,  as  surely  as  does  the  river 
to  its  course. 

"I  wonder  if  there  is  any  news  to-night?  Vin- 
cent is  so  late,"  said  Cissy,  casting  a  glance  at  a 
folded  napkin  before  an  unoccupied  chair. 

"He  expected  to  get  away  from  the  Foreign 
Office  by  seven,  but  evidently  he  has  been  kept. 
That  may  mean  anything,  you  know.  Perhaps  an- 
other battle  in  Manchuria  ?" 

Chrissie's  eyes  sparkled  at  the  prospect. 

"A  battle  in  Manchuria  wouldn't  be  nearly  as 
interesting  as  a  vacancy  in  a  secretaryship,"  mum- 
bled Lady  Aurelia  over  her  minced  chicken — the 
only  preparation  of  food  which  her  unarmed  jaws 
could  grapple  with.  "Lord  Cleghorn  as  good  as 
promised  him  the  next  one.  But  it  all  depends 
under  whom.  A  secretary  has  no  chance  under  a 
chief  who  is  a  fool,  and  we've  got  several  fools  rep- 
resenting us  just  now." 

"It  will  be  hard  not  seeing  him  and  not  getting 
the  news  first-hand,"  said  Chrissie,  wistfully.  "But, 
of  course,  he  cannot  miss  a  good  opportunity.  If  it 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE      49 

was  New  York,  now,  that  would  be  nice;  for  he 
might  pick  up  an  American  heiress,  and  he  needs 
an  heiress,  doesn't  he,  granny?" 

"He  needs  a  woman  who  knows  how  to  sit  at  the 
head  of  a  dinner-table,  and  who  won't  blush  up  to 
her  ears  when  an  Emperor  or  a  Sultan  or  a  great 
Mogul  speaks  to  her." 

"Americans  never  blush,  granny." 

"Shows  their  sense.  He's  welcome  to  his  Yan- 
kee, so  long  as  she  doesn't  smell  too  hard  of  salt 
pork  or  tallow  candles.  Or  he  may  go  in  for  con- 
nexions instead  of  money,  if  he  has  a  fancy  that 
way.  A  handle  to  a  name  comes  in  quite  as  use- 
fully as  a  gold-bag,  at  times.  I'd  give  him  plenty 
of  tether.  The  only  thing  he  mustn't  do  is  to  marry 
a  country  bumpkin.  In  that  event  I  get  straight 
into  my  grave.  A  woman  who  doesn't  know  how 
to  put  on  her  clothes  and  who  babbles  of  green  fields 
would  blast  the  career  of  a  Talleyrand.  And  now 
I  beg  that  Cissy  should  cease  making  bread  pellets, 
as  they  are  beginning  to  get  upon  my  nerves." 

"Green  fields,"  be  it  here  parenthetically  ob- 
served, stood  very  low  in  her  ladyship's  graces.  It 
was  the  air  of  capitals  that  was  the  breath  of  her 
nostrils,  inhaled  for  so  long  as  to  produce  a  distinct 
antipathy  to  things  rural.  "Live  in  the  country  and 
keep  a  trap !  You  can't  get  much  lower  than  that !" 
she  had  been  heard  to  comment  upon  the  life-pro- 
gramme of  a  young  couple  of  her  acquaintance. 

"They're  pretty,  though,  sometimes,  the  country 


50       POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

bumpkins,"  remarked  Sir  Christian,  smiling  as 
though  at  an  agreeable  recollection.  "Braxton  had 
a  wife  of  that  sort,  I  remember.  It's  true  that  she 
didn't  know  how  to  put  on  her  clothes,  but  she  had 
the  most  wonderful  complexion." 

"And  it's  true,  too,  that  he  left  the  service  a  long 
way  before  the  top  of  the  ladder,  isn't  it?" 

"Not  because  of  that,  dear  lady,  I  think." 

"Oh,  no,  to  be  sure.  He  made  a  fool  of  himself 
in  some  other  way,  didn't  he?  At  the  Valaville 
Conference,  if  I  remember  right.  I  wonder  if  it 
was  by  letting  out  that  there  was  nothing  remaining 
to  confer  about,  since  each  delegate  arrived  with  his 
signature  in  his  pocket?" 

The  Valaville  Conference  was  one  of  the  favour- 
ite bones  of  contention — maintained  by  the  dowager 
to  have  been  a  hollow  farce,  planned  for  the  pur- 
pose of  affording  some  extra  good  dinners  to  certain 
bon  vivant  statesmen;  for  "Lady  Mummy's" 
tongue  could  not  always  keep  off  even  the  profes- 
sion— an  aspersion  upon  the  honour  of  his  sex  as 
well  as  of  his  calling  which  even  Sir  Christian's 
suavity  could  not  tamely  swallow. 

Upon  his  bland  face  the  effect  of  the  remark  was 
as  visible  as  that  of  a  stone  flung  into  smooth  water. 

"But  there  was  plenty  to  confer  about,  I  assure 
you,"  he  protested  with  pained  dignity.  "Nothing 
but  the  preliminaries  had  been  settled.  Europe  was 
expecting  it.  To  call  it  off  at  the  last  moment  would 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE       51 

never  have  done.     It  is  always  impolitic  to  disap- 
point public  expectation." 

"I  expect  it  would  have  been  more  impolitic  to 
disappoint  the  appetites  of  a  few  of  your  colleagues, 
and  after  the  chef  had  been  engaged,  too!  Call  it 
the  vol-au-vent  conference,  and  be  done  with  it! 
Hi,  hi!" 

"I  assure  you,  my  dear  Lady  Aurelia " 

"As  if  I  didn't  know  what  the  assurances  of  your 
profession  are  worth!"  chuckled  her  ladyship,  with 
that  detachment  from  the  trammels  of  that  same 
profession  which  she  was  able  to  exercise  whenever 
it  served  ends.  Nothing,  in  fact,  amused  her  so 
much  as  to  throw  stones — or,  at  any  rate,  pebbles — 
at  the  idol  of  her  heart. 

"But  what  has  the  Valaville  Conference  to  do 
with  Vincent's  future  wife?"  interposed  Chrissie, 
seizing  upon  what  seemed  to  be  a  good  opportunity 
of  practising  the  gentle  and  strictly  diplomatic  art 
of  arbitration. 

"Leave  me  alone  with  Vincent's  future  wife! 
Don't  oppress  me  with  her !  Don't  choke  me  with 
her!  Give  me  room  to  fall!"  ejaculated  Lady 
Aurelia,  waving  a  pair  of  skin-and-bone  hands 
above  her  empty  plate,  as  though  to  ward  off  a 
thronging  crowd.  Both  the  ejaculation  and  the  ges- 
ture were  familiar  to  her  intimates,  though,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  it  was  Lady  Aurelia  who  more  fre- 
quently crowded  upon  her  fellow-creatures  than 
they  upon  her.  Neither — the  space  asked  for  being 


52       POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

granted — had  she  ever  betrayed  the  least  intention 
of  falling. 

"I'm  dead  sick  of  Vincent  and  his  future  wife. 
And  now  I  beg  that  Christian  should*  pass  the  Ma- 
deira with  the  least  possible  delay." 

The  Madeira  had  been  passed  and  drunk,  and 
dessert  was  on  the  table,  when  the  electric  bell 
buzzed  shrilly. 

"Vincent!"  cried  both  Dresden  shepherdesses  in 
one  breath,  while  Sir  Christian,  laying  down  his 
fruit-knife,  turned  expectantly  towards  the  door, 
which  within  the  same  minute  opened  to  admit  the 
son  of  the  house. 

"At  last !"  said  the  family  in  general,  partly  with 
their  eyes  and  partly  with  their  lips.  Even  Lady 
Aurelia's  black  orbs  twinkled  in  a  way  which  scarce- 
ly accorded  with  the  satiety  proclaimed  a  few  min- 
utes back. 

"Haven't  deserved  my  dinner,  have  I?  And  yet 
I  mean  to  have  some!"  laughed  Vincent,  as  he  first 
grasped  his  father's  hand  and  then,  in  foreign  fash- 
ion, kissed  that  of  his  grandmother — nodding  affec- 
tionately to  his  sisters  the  while. 

Sir  Christian's  heir,  aged  twenty-five,  without 
being  quite  as  conspicuously  ornamental,  was  at 
least  as  imposing-looking  as  his  father.  If  his  eyes 
were  less  brilliant,  his  eyebrows  less  sweeping  and 
his  nose  less  decorative,  he  made  up  for  it  in  other 
ways.  Upon  the  shoulders  of  an  athlete — though 
somewhat  more  loosely  carried  than  athletes  usually 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE       53 

bear  themselves — the  compact  brown  head,  just 
touched  with  gold,  seemed  small,  and  yet  was  well 
in  proportion  with  his  height.  The  clean-shaven, 
clear-cut  features  might  have  been  called  boyish  but 
for  a  certain  disharmony  between  the  sunny,  hazel 
eyes  and  the  somewhat  too  massive  jaw,  which,  at 
moments,  had  a  trick  of  obstinately  squaring.  In 
such  moments  the  thin  mouth  could  be  grim,  and, 
with  the  hazel  eyes  darkening  in  sympathy,  all  the 
brightness  of  the  physiognomy  was  shut  up  out  of 
sight.  His  sisters  were  fond  of  saying  that  Vincent 
had  two  faces,  his  playing  face  and  his  working 
face.  It  might  have  been  as  correct  to  say  the  face 
given  him  by  nature  and  the  one  developed  by  cir- 
cumstances, the  only  question  to  decide  being  which 
of  the  two  represented  the  real  Vincent.  On  the 
whole  he  looked  more  like  the  captain  of  an  eleven 
or  the  stroke  oar  of  a  university  boat  than  a  diplo- 
mat. 

"Much  you'd  attain  if  you  only  got  your  de- 
serts," remarked  Lady  Amelia  in  a  growl  which 
was  not  meant  to  be  affectionate,  but  which  suffi- 
ciently betrayed  the  whereabouts  of  the  weak  spot 
in  her  withered  heart. 

The  hazel  eyes  went  round  the  table. 

"Wasn't  Cousin  Minna  to  have  dined  here  to- 
night?" 

"She  was.  Cried  off  because  of  some  meeting  or 
other." 

"Never  mind  Minna  now.     Rather  give  an  ac- 


54       POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

count  of  yourself.  What's  the  last  political  plot 
you've  been  hatching?  And  whom  have  you  been 
telling  lies  to  so  hard  as  to  forget  the  dinner-hour?" 

"I  haven't  been  telling  lies  to  anybody,"  said 
Vincent,  with  sudden  sharpness,  while  upon  the 
brightness  of  his  face  there  descended  the  periodical 
shadow. 

Lady  Aurelia  rocked  her  spare  body  from  side 
to  side  in  an  access  of  spasmodic  hilarity. 

"Your  naivete  is  beyond  anything,  Vincent! 
Why,  the  lies  are  half  the  fun  I" 

"Anything  new?"  hurriedly  questioned  Chrissie, 
recognising  dangerous  ground. 

"Nothing  beyond  what  was  in  the  evening  pa- 
pers." 

"Ah,  I  don't  mean  about  the  war,  but  about  your* 
self — any  new  opening?" 

"Well,  the  newest  thing  is  that  I've  come  to  a 
decision." 

•"Ah !  Tell  us  all  about  it  while  you  eat.  We'll 
smoke  our  cigarettes  here,  so  as  to  be  able  to  look 
on,"  she  urged;  while  Henders,  the  butler,  brought 
in  with  his  own  hands  a  miniature  edition  of  the 
dinner,  carefully  kept  warm  for  the  hope  of  the 
family. 

The  cigarettes  was  one  of  the  cosmopolitan  hab- 
its cultivated,  not  because  either  Chrissie  or  Cissy 
at  all  enjoyed  smoking,  but  because  there  are  some 
countries  in  which  it  is  considered  dowdy  not  to 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE       55 

smoke.  And  since  one  could  not  know  what  the 
future 

"Am  I  to  talk  with  my  mouth  full?" 

The  momentary  shadow  had  flown.  It  was  the 
playing  face  with  which  Vincent  put  the  question — 
the  white  teeth  well  displayed,  the  hazel  eyes  brim- 
ming gleefully. 

"Of  course  you  are." 

"Really,  you're  very  stupid  to-day,  Vincent," 
quavered  Lady  Aurelia.  "Allow  me  to  beg  that 
you  should  come  to  the  point." 

"All  right,  granny!  It's  only  that  I've  made 
up  my  mind  to  learn  Hungarian." 

The  family  face  fell  all  round. 

"Is  that  all?" 

"Yes — for  the  present.  But  it's  to  lead  to  more, 
I  hope.  You  evidently  haven't  been,  following  Eu- 
ropean events  as  closely  as  Asiatic  ones.  They're 
going  it  strong,  Kossuth  and  his  lot.  Cleghorn 
thinks  the  movement,  once  started,  will  prove  irre- 
sistible. Within  a  measurable  number  of  years — 
possibly  of  months — they  will  have  gained  their 
point — which  is  virtual  independence.  That,  of 
course,  means  separate  representation — a  new  Em- 
bassy at  Budapest.  And  that  again  means  that 
attaches  who  can  talk  Hungarian  will  be  at  a  pre- 
mium. See?  It's  my  own  idea.  Rather  neat,  I 
think.  What  do  you  say  to  it,  granny?" 

He  looked  towards  his  grandmother  as  to  the 
chief  authority  present. 


56 

Lady  Aurelia  executed  a  toothless  smile. 

"I  say  that  you're  not  quite  as  blind  as  a  bat. 
It'll  take  a  little  time  before  I  despair  of  you  yet." 

"Thank  you.  That's  all  I  wanted.  And  now 
the  next  thing  I've  got  to  do  is  to  look  out  for  a 
Hungarian  teacher." 

"An  excellent  plan!"  beamed  Sir  Christian,  while 
Chrissie  and  Cissy  revived  under  this  new  light  cast 
upon  the  situation.  The  idea  must  be  good  if 
granny  approved  of  it. 

"An  advertisement  would  be  the  best  thing,  I 
suppose.  I  expect  it  will  be  a  deuce  of  a  matter  to 
find  a  good  Hungarian  teacher  in  London.  If  I 
wanted  to  learn  Chinese  or  Malayan,  I've  no  doubt 
I'd  be  overwhelmed  with  offers.  But  who  takes 
Hungarian  lessons  nowadays?" 

"I  know!"  cried  Chrissie,  abruptly,  abandoning 
the  cigarette  she  had  been  struggling  with.  "You 
won't  need  the  advertisement.  I've  just  remem- 
bered. Herr  Hartmann  was  saying  the  other  day 
that  his  daughter  speaks  Hungarian." 

"Who  is  Herr  Hartmann?" 

"That  old  German  who  gives  us  lessons.  At 
least,  he's  an  Austrian;  but  he  speaks  German  per- 
fectly, and  English,  too,  for  the  matter  of  that.  In 
fact,  we  began  by  taking  him  for  an  Englishman. 
However,  he  sticks  to  being  an  Austrian.  He  has 
been  in  London  quite  a  short  time,  and  both  he  and 
his  daughter  give  German  lessons.  It  said  so  in 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE       57 

the  advertisement.  But  he  says  that  she  speaks 
Hungarian,  too." 

"H-m !  That  might  do.  And  have  you  seen  this 
young  woman?" 

"No;  and  I  don't  know  about  her  being  young. 
Probably  she's  an  alte  Jungfer,  for  the  father  is 
quite  old;  at  least,  he  has  got  an  absolutely  white 
beard,  and  looks  rather  ill,  too,  or  rather  wretched, 
or  something." 

"And  he's  a  possible  sort  of  person?" 

"Oh,  a  gentleman — isn't  he,  granny?" 

"The  wreck  of  a  gentleman,  you  mean." 

"Well,  as  long  as  the  daughter  isn't  the  wreck 
of  a  lady — I  should  rather  object  to  being  put 
through  my  verbs  by  a  person  with  a  past.  It 
mightn't  be  proper,  you  know." 

"I  should  object  to  the  process  far  more  if  car- 
ried out  by  a  person  with  a  future,"  said  Lady 
Aurelia,  incisively.  "But  I  almost  think  Herr 
Hartmann's  daughter  can  be  taken  on  trust.  He 
doesn't  look  like  the  father  of  chickens." 

"He's  coming  to-morrow,"  remarked  Cissy. 

"To  be  sure  he  is !  We'll  open  negotiations.  You 
must  give  us  your  days  and  hours.  And,  by  the 
bye,  where  are  the  lessons  to  take  place?" 

"Here,  by  all  means,"  decided  Lady  Aurelia, 
who  had,  perhaps,  been  reflecting.  "Even  an  alte 
Jungfer  would  probably  object  to  going  to  your 
rooms — they're  a  prudish  lot,  those  Germans — 
and,  of  course,  you  would  object  to  going  to  hers." 


58       POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

"I'm  agreeable,"  said  Vincent,  vigorously  attack- 
ing his  cutlet. 

And  thus,  light-heartedly,  the  resolution  was 
taken. 


CHAPTER  II 

ANTIGONE 

THE  'bus  was  packed,  inside  and  out;  the  hang- 
ing-straps much  in  request,  the  toes  of  the  sitters 
proportionately  endangered;  yet,  despite  the  unrest 
of  exits  and  entrances,  despite  even  the  complication 
of  wet  umbrellas  brought  in  by  each  newcomer, 
there  existed  in  this  miniature,  moving  crowd  a 
centre  of  interest,  as  a  certain  unanimity  in  the  di- 
rection of  glances  amply  proved. 

This  centre  was  to  be  found  under  the  brim  of  a 
grey  felt  hat,  which  looked  rather  more  "supe- 
rior" than  the  average  of  hats  met  in  'buses.  No 
other  than  a  girl's  face — very  young,  very  fresh — 
its  freshness  set  off  by  a  pair  of  the  darkest  eyes 
which  ever  had  the  right  to  call  themselves  blue. 
It  was  towards  the  corner  in  which  she  sat  that 
most  heads,  of  both  sexes,  showed  a  propensity  for 
turning,  almost  as  steadily  as  the  needle  to  the 
magnet;  it  was  at  this  point  that  the  usual  circular 
glance  with  which  the  newcomer  takes  stock  of  his 
companions  stopped  almost  automatically,  to  pass 
on  again  hurriedly  if  the  person  was  discreet,  to  fix 

59 


60       POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

itself,  more  or  less  openly,  if  he  were  the  reverse. 
To  be  able  to  stare  even  furtively  at  a  beautiful 
woman  is,  after  all,  a  treat  not  lightly  to  be  fore- 
gone, and  a  rare  mitigation  of  the  weariness  of  'bus- 
travelling.  The  treat  was  granted  to  many  to-day, 
for  she  had  come  from  a  long  way  west.  The  con- 
ductor, a  wizened,  little,  grey-haired  man  with  a 
scarlet  button  of  a  nose,  was  beginning  to  look  upon 
her  almost  with  a  proprietor's  eye,  and  in  deep  ap- 
proval. Unquestionably  she  conferred  distinction 
upon  the  'bus.  "Such  a  beauty  as  we  'ave  in  here!" 
he  felt  inclined  to  whisper  to  each  passenger  that 
pressed  past  him. 

Upon  the  girl  in  the  grey  hat  both  the  approval 
and  the  indiscretion  were  lost.  Visibly  she  was  too 
deep  in  her  own  reflections  to  be  aware  of  either. 
Not  exhilarating,  these  reflections,  apparently;  for 
more  than  once  the  delicate,  dark  eyebrows  drew 
together,  and  every  now  and  then  the  red  underlip 
trembled,  as  lips  are  apt  to  tremble  when  tears  are 
near,  and  then  was  worried  back  into  quietude  by 
a  set  of  small,  white  teeth  which,  for  all  their  white- 
ness, gleamed  a  trifle  fiercely.  Down  the  whole 
length  of  Brompton  Road  she  sat  staring  out  of  the 
window  opposite  with  fixed  eyes  which  probably 
saw  little  of  the  shop-windows  in  which  the  gas,  just 
lit,  flared  successively  upon  cheap  blouses  and  petti- 
coats, upon  joints  of  beef  and  mutton,  upon  the  wax 
busts  in  the  hair-dressers'  windows.  It  was  not 
until  Brompton  Road  had  melted  into  Cromwell 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE       61 

Road  that  she  appeared,  with  a  sort  of  jerk,  to 
return  to  actualities. 

Room  was  made  for  her  to  pass,  almost  reluc- 
tantly; the  wizened  conductor's  hand  put  at  her 
disposal  for  descent,  behind  her  back  more  than  one 
comment  exchanged. 

The  'bus  rolled  on,  and  she  stood  alone  on  the 
pavement,  and  now,  at  last,  profiting  of  the  privacy 
of  the  crowd,  eased  her  feelings  with  an  unmistak- 
able sigh.  It  was  a  sigh  more  full  of  an  angry  im- 
patience than  of  anything  else,  and  it  was  with  an 
angry  impatience,  too,  that  she  now  gathered  her 
skirt  into  one  hand,  while  in  the  other  she  balanced 
her  umbrella,  for  the  April  evening  remained  per- 
sistently wet.  The  umbrella  had  a  silver  handle, 
but  there  was  a  fresh  rent  in  the  silk,  and  the  wind 
was  driving  the  rain  straight  into  her  face,  and  the 
packet  of  books  under  her  arm  was  an  encumbrance, 
and,  altogether,  life  had  frequently  been  very  much 
easier  than  the  form  under  which  it  presented  itself 
at  this  moment. 

Fortunately,  the  remaining  distance  was  not 
great,  and  the  narrow  side-street  of  Cromwell  Road 
— a  street  to  be  called  "dingy"  only  because  there 
exists  no  stronger  suitable  adjective  in  the  English 
language — saved  her,  at  any  rate,  from  the  jostle 
of  the  evening  crowd.  Here  the  sooty  brick  wall 
on  either  side  was  identified  as  houses  only  by  the 
doors  and  windows  piercing  it  at  regular  intervals. 
Without  this  advertisement  a  stranger  to  London 


62       POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

might  have  easily  mistaken  them  for  the  walls  of  a 
prison-yard.  Some  one  with  a  sense  of  humour  had 
christened  the  spot  Filbert  Gardens." 

Upon  the  doorstep  of  one  of  these  painfully  indi- 
vidualised houses  the  bearer  of  the  umbrella  stopped 
and  rang  the  bell,  with  another  sigh,  this  time  of 
relief — of  a  premature  relief,  however,  since  a  sec- 
ond and  a  third  application  to  the  bell  was  needed 
before  slipshod  steps  became  audible.  The  steps 
flew,  however,  and  the  door  was  torn  open  to  a 
width  obviously  intended  as  a  compensation  for 
tardiness. 

"Lor',  Miss  'Artmann!  If  I'd  known  it  was 
you !"  The  face  which  looked  out  upon  the  new- 
comer was  adorned  with  a  welcoming  grin.  A  set 
of  painfully  irregular  teeth,  each  leaning  in  its  own 
individual  direction — somewhat  after  the  fashion  of 
gravestones  in  an  ancient  burying-ground — looked 
almost  as  alarmingly  wild  as  did  the  unkempt  hair, 
innocent  of  cap.  The  attire  was  even  dirtier,  the 
hands  even  redder,  and  the  nose  even  lumpier  than 
the  average  of  these  features  in  the  "general"  of 
third-class  London  lodging-houses;  but  the  breadth 
and  obvious  sincerityof  the  grin  made  up  for  every- 
thing— or  might  have  done  so,  had  other  circum- 
stances not  been  so  particularly  trying  to-night. 

"You  might  have  known  it  was  me,  if  you  had 
taken  the  trouble  to  look  at  the  clock,"  said  the  girl 
in  the  grey  hat,  with  the  sharpness  of  fatigue.  "I'm 
late  enough,  as  it  is." 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE       63 

The  grin  was  extinguished  by  a  look  of  almost 
comical  consternation,  while  the  small,  pig-like  eyes 
became  abject. 

"I'm  that  sorry,  miss,  I  can't  tell  ye!"  she  hum- 
bly protested.  "And  you  so  dhreadful  wet!  Why, 
it's  got  on  to  yer  hat — yer  ghrand,  pritty  hat!  Sure, 
I  was  tellin'  Mrs.  Martin  but  yesterday  that  there's 
no  hat  loike  it  in  the  whole  of  Brompton  Road  I 
I'm  thinkin'  there  must  be  a  hole  in  your  umbreller, 
entirely!  Just  you  give  it  me  sthraight  off  your 
head,  and  I'll  take  it  to  the  kitchen  fire.  For  the 
love  of  the  saints,  give  it  me,  my  sweet  young  lidy 1" 
pleaded  Pattie,  the  purity  of  whose  brogue  had, 
owing  to  a  long  metropolitan  residence,  become 
considerably  contaminated  by  cockney  vowels. 

Upon  the  blue-eyed  girl's  face  impatience  and 
amusement  struggled  visibly — for  the  red  hands 
showed  signs  of  appropriating  the  hat  by  brute 
force,  if  need  be — but  in  the  end  she  burst  out 
laughing. 

"There — take  it,  in  heaven's  name !  Only,  mind 
you  don't  put  it  in  the  fire  by  mistake.  And,  Pattie, 
I'm  sorry  I  spoke  so  sharply;  but,  oh,  you  don't 
know  how  tired  I  am !" 

"Shairply?" 

Pattie,  overwhelmed  by  so  unprecedented  a  thing 
as  an  apology,  seemed  ready  to  collapse  on  the  floor, 
hat  and  all.  "Thai's  not  what  Mrs?  Martin  calls 
shairply.  Sure,  onless  her  hand's  in  it,  as  well  as 
her  tongue — or,  maybe,  her  toe,  whiles,"  added 


64       POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

Pattie,  with  a  wink  of  her  tiny  eyes  which  indicated 
a  perfect  appreciation  of  the  humour  of  the  situa- 
tion— "she  doesn't  think  she's  spoken  to  me  at  all. 
The  idea  of  your  bein'  sorry !  Holy  Saints !  And 
after  such  a  bad  day  as  you  must  have  had  of  itl 
You  'ave  had  a  bad  day,  'aven't  you,  miss?" 

"Baddish.  But  I  daresay  you've  had  a  worse 
one." 

The  blue-eyed  girl  was  actually  smiling  again. 

"Me,  miss?  What's  that  to  do  with  it?  Sure, 
I'm  used  to  it,  aren't  I  ?  But  any  one  can  see  that 
you're  not.  The  red  hands  waved  in  a  manner 
perilous  to  the  grey  hat.  "It's  in  a  foine  coach  you 
should  be  rhidin',  and  not  in  a  dhirty  'bus.  Any 
one  with  half  an  eye  can  see " 

"Hush,  Pattie!  Nobody  has  got  any  business 
to  see  anything!  Is  my  father  come  in  yet?" 

"Not  he,  miss ;  though  I  put  on  the  foire,  as  you 
told  me  to.  And  you'll  be  wantin'  your  supper, 
I'mthinkin'?" 

"Not  until  my  father  comes  in." 

The  blue-eyed  girl  opened  a  door  off  the  narrow 
entrance,  and,  groping  her  way  to  the  mantelpiece, 
put  a  match  to  the  gas  and  looked  about  her. 

The  forethought  which  had  lit  the  fire  in  the 
grate  had  not  stretched  to  the  maintenance  of  it, 
for  which  reason  the  room  was  distinctly  chilly. 
Needless  to  say  that  it  was  also  ugly,  with  that  in- 
trinsically mean  and  sordid  ugliness  which  is  a 
specialite  of  the  cheap  London  lodging.  There 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE       65 

was  the  usual  narrow  mantelpiece  of  painted  wood, 
with  the  usual  glass  vases  and  china  baskets  upon  it, 
the  usual  dim  table  which  had  once  been  shiny,  the 
usual  straight-backed  chairs  and  unreposeful  sofa; 
while  it  would  have  been  as  hazardous  as  it  gener- 
ally is  to  form  a  conjecture  as  to  the  original  colour 
of  the  narrow  chintz  curtains,  or  the  original  pat- 
tern of  the  much-trodden  carpet.  Yet,  beside  this 
rockbed  of  fundamental  features  there  were  a  few 
touches  noticeable  which  spoke  of  attempts  at  a 
sort  of  superficial  correction;  to  these  belonged  the 
primroses  in  the  vases,  and  a  couple  of  bright  cush- 
ions on  the  sofa.  An  iron  bedstead  and  a  tin  wash- 
ing-table proclaimed  the  room  to  be  a  bedroom,  but 
the  presence  of  a  quaint  Japanese  paper  screen  and 
of  some  books  upon  the  table  indicated  that  it  was 
expected  to  play  the  sitting-room  as  well. 

Having  looked  about  her,  Miss  'Artmann,  other- 
wise Irma  Harding,  first  applied  herself  to  coaxing 
back  into  flame  the  embers  in  the  grate  by  means  of 
the  dregs  of  the  coal-scuttle.  This  successfully 
achieved,  she  put  a  few  chairs  straight,  pulled  the 
least  uncomfortable  of  them  to  the  fire,  fetched  a 
pair  of  slippers  from  behind  the  screen  and  put  them 
to  toast,  pulled  out  a  few  faded  primroses  and  re- 
settled the  others,  and  finally  turned  up  the  gas  a 
little  higher.  It  was  not  until  she  was  satisfied, 
comparatively  speaking,  with  the  look  of  the  room 
that  she  retired  to  the  one  alongside — a  much 
smaller  one,  with  its  window  to  the  backyard,  and 


66       POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

with  not  even  the  pretence  of  a  fire  in  the  grate — to 
divest  herself  of  her  damp  jacket  and  boots. 

Presently  she  was  back  again,  and,  sitting  down 
before  the  fire,  proceeded  to  think  out  the  latest 
thing  in  difficulties,  one  of  the  many  which  had 
strewn  the  fugitives'  path  since  the  day  on  which, 
under  cover  of  the  morning's  shadows,  they  had  left 
the  house  in  the  Vienna  Ringstrasse. 

How  long  ago  it  seemed,  that  winter  dawn  full 
of  the  hurry  of  packing  and  the  poignancy  of  fare- 
wells! How  far  away,  already,  that  moment  at 
which  she  had  got  into  the  cab,  alone  with  her  dully 
passive  father  I  Until  they  reached  Hamburg,  late 
that  night,  he  had  retained  the  same  dazed  expres- 
sion of  face  which  had  been  there  during  the  terrible 
family  scene.  It  was  the  sight  of  the  shipmasts 
on  the  Elbe  which  seemed  to  bring  him  back  to 
reality.  No  decision  had  yet  been  come  to  as  to 
their  further  destination,  and  Irma  now  called  for 
one.  During  the  whole  of  the  day's  voyage  every- 
thing had  been  left  to  her,  but  to  decide  the  main 
question  she  did  not  feel  competent,  though  she 
urged  New  York,  as  the  most  obvious  thing.  But 
here  an  unlooked-for  opposition  met  her — Harding 
pleaded  for  London.  It  would  be  just  as  safe,  he 
assured  her,  since  for  years  past  he  had  been  prac- 
tically expatriated.  So  long  as  he  kept  clear  of  the 
quarter  of  the  city  in  which  was  situated  the  mother 
establishment  of  the  "Anglo-Saxon,"  and  where  his 
face  was  known  from  his  flying  business  visits,  there 


6? 

really  existed  no  danger.  And  he  dreaded  the  long 
sea-voyage.  The  eagerness  of  his  arguments  be- 
trayed some  thought  behind.  But  Irma  did  not 
guess  that  this  thought  was  the  dread  of  putting  the 
ocean  between  him  and  the  woman  he  still  adored. 
With  only  the  Channel  between,  the  hope  of  a 
meeting — if  only  a  final  one — did  not  seem  so  ut- 
terly extravagant.  Not  even  the  scene  after  the 
ball  had  been  able  to  shatter  the  idol,  though  it 
could  not  fail  to  tear  off  some  of  its  glittering  veils. 
In  truth,  it  had  not  really  altered  the  respective  po- 
sitions of  husband  and  wife,  but  only  intensified 
them.  It  was  not  for  her  goodness  or  her  generos- 
ity that  he  had  loved  Isabella,  but  just  because  she 
was  Isabella,  and  she  remained  Isabella  still.  Pas- 
sions of  this  description  are  nearly  allied  to  mono- 
mania, and  monomaniacs,  as  is  well  known,  are  not 
susceptible  even  to  the  plainest  demonstration. 

So  London  it  had  been.  And  London  had  swal- 
lowed them  up  as  tracelessly  as  only  London  can. 
What  other  stomach,  indeed,  could  so  perfectly  di- 
gest the  miscellaneous  morsels  flung  to  it  daily? 

The  hunt  for  the  defrauding  bank  director  had 
passed  harmlessly  over  their  heads  and  across  the 
ocean  to  their  originally  proposed  place  of  refuge. 
That  "doubling  back"  from  Hamburg  had  proved 
a  far  more  effective  measure  for  throwing  off  the 
scent  than  either  of  them  had  imagined. 

London  pavement,  then,  was  the  battlefield  on 
which  the  life-struggle  was  to  be  fought  out.  It 


68       POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

was  a  sharper  and,  in  especial,  a  meaner  and  less 
picturesque  battle  than  Irma,  in  her  ignorance,  had 
supposed.  Did  she,  for  this,  regret  having  accepted 
the  challenge  of  Fate?  With  her  hand  upon  her 
heart  she  could  have  answered,  No.  For  any  such 
defection  her  spirit  was  too  high,  her  motive  too 
sincere.  Yet,  it  was  inevitable  that  after  the  exal- 
tation of  the  critical  moment  reaction  should  follow. 
Excitement  cannot  persist,  though  purpose  may. 
Having  actually  done  the  thing,  she  was,  at 
moments,  seized  by  a  sort  of  panic,  as  of  a  person 
who,  having  swung  himself  to  the  pinnacle 
of  a  high  rock,  wonders,  giddily,  whether  he  will 
be  able  to  keep  his  balance  at  that  height.  But 
these  were  but  moments  of  weakness,  ever  and 
again  triumphed  over  by  a  stronger  emotion — the 
instinct  of  protection  towards  the  poor,  bruised  man 
whose  only  moral  support  she  knew  herself  to  be. 
Having  forced  him  to  live,  against  his  own  will,  she 
felt  bound  also  to  help  him  to  live.  The  weight  of 
responsibility  thus  thrown  upon  her  had,  as  with 
the  stroke  of  a  hammer,  transformed  her  person- 
ality, just  as  a  stroke  will  steady  and  fix  that  which 
it  does  not  break  down.  And  yet  it  would  probably 
be  truer  to  speak  of  a  revelation  rather  than  a 
transformation.  That  stroke  of  the  hammer  might 
as  easily  be  supposed,  by  shattering  the  crust  of 
superficial  qualities,  to  have  brought  to  light  the 
true  substance  of  the  soul  beneath.  If  it  is  true  that 
nothing  can  be  taken  out  of  a  sack  but  what  is  in 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE       69 

it,  then  it  would  be  equally  true  that  Irma  was 
brave  and  generous  and  unselfish  even  in  the  days 
when  she  appeared  to  be  only  gay  and  good-natured 
and  pleasure-seeking ;  but  it  had  wanted  the  blow  of 
the  hammer  to  discover  it  even  to  herself. 

To  see  the  wrecked  man  gradually  regaining  his 
hold  upon  life,  to  mark  his  humble  gratitude,  was 
reward  enough  for  all  sacrifices — or,  at  any  rate, 
for  all  those  which  had  yet  been  asked.  When, 
with  a  smile  that  was  sadder  than  a  sigh,  he  would 
call  her  his  Antigone,  her  heart  beat  high.  This 
Antigone  meant  to  do  even  more  than  the  other 
Antigone  had  done,  for  she  meant  to  fill  up  by  her 
devotion  alone  the  hole  that  had  been  torn  in  his 
life;  and  in  the  sanguine  enthusiasm  of  her  years, 
and  despite  the  blankness  of  the  eyes  which  wan- 
dered wearily,  as  eyes  are  apt  to  wander  which  have 
lost  their  real  object  of  vision,  she  actually  believed 
she  would  succeed. 

A  primary  necessity  was,  of  course,  that  he 
should  never  guess  at  her  moments  of  discourage- 
ment. In  truth,  the  effort  of  maintaining  a  smiling 
face  had  not  been  over-great  so  far,  for  the  situation 
still  bore  that  character  of  newness  which,  at  eigh- 
teen, makes  up  for  a  good  deal.  It  was  almost  pos- 
sible— at  moments,  anyway — to  persuade  herself 
that  they  were  only  playing  at  being  poor. 

But  to-day's  events  might  easily  bring  the  game 
unpleasantly  near  to  reality.  Her  best  lesson  had 
just  been  called  off,  the  lesson  which,  together  with 


70      POMP   AND    CIRCUMSTANCE 

her  father's  two  hours  a  week  in  Sir  Christian  Den- 
holm's  house,  had  proved  the  piece  de  resistance 
of  their  modest  existence.     Not  even  the  first  days 
in  London  had  held  so  critical  a  moment  as  this; 
for  during  those  first  weeks  there  had  still  been 
some  ready  money,  thanks  to  which  they  had  been 
able  to  advertise  so  judiciously  as  to  secure  almost 
immediate  occupation.  The  lessons  at  the  Denholms 
had  been  an  extraordinary  piece  of  luck,  and  so 
had  her  own  employment  in  the  house  of  a  motor 
manufacturer  who   had   already  motored  himself 
into  his  second  million,  and  did  not  mean  to  stop 
before  his  tenth.     The  son  and  heir,  aged  seven, 
was  being  trained  to  represent  the  "Cerberus"  mo- 
tor on  the  Continent,  for  which  purpose  the  Ger- 
man language  was  naturally  indispensable.     The 
somewhat  brusque  dismissal  given  to-day  had  been 
explained  by  a  change  of  plans  which  was  obviously 
a  pretext.     It  was  not  the  plans  which  were  at 
fault,  as  Irma  easily  guessed,  but  her  pupil's  bache- 
lor uncle — likewise   partner  in  the  "Cerberus" — 
who,  having  chanced  to  come  in  during  one  of  the 
lessons,  had  developed  in  his  nephew's  progress  an 
interest  which  the  family  obviously  considered  sus- 
picious.   Oh,  Irma  understood  quite  well.    She  had 
not  been  through  a  Vienna  carnival  for  nothing. 
And  yet  how  innocent  she  felt  of  even  the  faintest 
desire  to  attract  the  attention  of  the  well-washed, 
well-groomed,  well-nourished  young  Croesus  !     She 
knew  how  to  do  it — ah,  yes!  quite  well — had  she 


POMP  AND   CIRCUMSTANCE       71 

not  practised  upon  Baron  Kiraly?  But  she  was  no 
longer  quite  the  same  girl  who  had  exchanged  ban- 
tering remarks  with  the  black-eyed  Baron,  and  she 
was  already  too  anxious  about  her  daily  bread  to 
endanger  it  by  playing  any  foolish  pranks. 

Instinctively,  at  this  point  of  her  reflections,  she 
raised  her  eyes  to  the  mantelpiece.  There,  among 
the  vases  and  baskets,  was  throned  that  same  penny 
doll  which  she  had  danced  upon  her  knee  during 
the  "toy-shop  figure"  of  the  cotillon,  and  which,  in 
the  hurry  of  the  precipitate  packing,  had  got  thrown 
into  her  box  by  mistake,  with  its  wooden  leg  en- 
tangled in  her  lace  handkerchief.  It  was  with  a 
curious  sort  of  pang  that  she  had  discovered  it  at 
the  end  of  the  voyage,  and  set  it  up  deliberately  on 
the  most  conspicuous  spot  of  the  room.  The  little 
wooden  atom  in  the  spangled  pink  skirt  and  with 
the  bead  necklace  around  its  thin  neck  seemed  to 
her  like  the  embodiment  of  all  that  brilliant  time 
which  lay  behind  her,  the  very  personification  of 
the  gay  Vienna  carnival.  It  could  harm  no  one, 
not  even  her  father,  if  she  occasionally  refreshed 
herself  by  a  fancy  excursion  into  that  region  of  lost 
delights.  Pattie,  from  the  first,  had  succumbed  to 
the  charms  of  the  pink  doll. 

"What's  her  name,  miss?"  she  had  asked  on  a 
certain  day  on  which  Irma  had  discovered  her  gig- 
gling in  front  of  the  mantelpiece. 

"Her  name?  I  think  her  name  is  Vindobona," 
said  Irma,  after  a  pause,  as  spontaneously  the  clas- 


72       POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

sic  name  of  the  beloved  residence  rose  to  her 
mind. 

From  that  day  on  "Winderboney" — the  near- 
est that  Pattie  could  achieve — had  become  a  per- 
sonage. To  dispose  of  the  spangled  figure  in  what 
she  considered  to  be  the  most  becoming  positions, 
and  to  put  her  wooden  limbs  through  contortions  as 
excruciating  as  those  of  the  most  highly  paid  acro- 
bats, was  to  the  "general"  a  source  of  never-ending 
delight.  To-day,  butterfly  fashion,  she  was  hover- 
ing on  one  leg  in  the  middle  of  a  primrose  bunch, 
with  arms  stretched  wildly  overhead.  To  Irma's 
disturbed  imagination  the  gesture  seemed  one  of 
distraction. 

"Lessons !  Lessons !  Help !  Help !  Give  me 
new  lessons!  Pupils  to  the  rescue!"  the  pink  doll 
seemed  to  be  shrieking;  and  the  fancied  cry  mingled 
in  Irma's  mind  with  a  very  real  desire  to  throttle 
the  fat  and  smiling  Mr.  Potts,  junior. 

The  bitterest  part  still  remained — that  of  telling 
her  father  of  the  lost  lessons.  And  yet  she  wished 
he  was  here  already  to  be  told.  With  the  anxiety 
of  her  new-born  solicitude  she  listened  for  his  ring, 
and,  when  it  came,  sprang  up  with  an  alacrity  which 
easily  forestalled  Pattie,  who,  to  judge  from  the 
nature  of  the  sounds  proceeding  from  lower  regions, 
was  being  severely  belaboured  by  Mrs.  Martin's 
tongue,  if  not  actually  by  her  hands. 

"Another  saucer,  probably,"  thought  Irma,  as 
she  sped  to  the  door;  for  Mrs.  Martin  was  most 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE      73 

emphatically  not  "mistress  of  herself"  when  china 
fell,  and  the  amount  of  china  which  fell  under 
Pattie's  care  defied  calculation — she  belonging  to 
the  category  of  people  whose  fingers  are  best  de- 
scribed as  "all  thumbs." 

"So  late,  papa!  You  must  be  drenched.  Come 
in  quickly.  Your  slippers  are  beautifully  toasted, 
and  supper  will  soon  be  here — at  least,  I  hope  so,  if 
Pattie  has  left  enough  plates  whole  to  serve  it  on." 

All  the  worry  of  a  moment  back  was  swept  out 
of  sight.  She  must  tell  him  of  the  loss,  of  course, 
but,  at  least,  she  would  tell  it  to  him  with  a  smile  on 
her  lips. 

"What  has  kept  you  so  long?" 

"Various  things:  a  block  in  the  street,  a  wrong 
'bus  I  got  into.  Then  I  left  my  umbrella  at  the 
bookshop  where  I  was  choosing  a  grammar  and 
had  to  tramp  back  for  it." 

"Poor  papa !    Are  you  very  tired  ?" 

"Not  more  than  usual,"  said  the  present  Herr 
Hartmann,  in  a  tone  which  betrayed  complete  in- 
difference on  the  subject.  Then,  while  Irma  helped 
him  out  of  his  overcoat :  "And  how  have  you  fared, 
Irma?" 

It  was  the  usual  comparing  of  daily  notes  be- 
tween the  exiles. 

"Oh,  pretty  well.  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it  pres- 
ently. But  first  get  comfortable,  and  I'll  ring  for 
supper.  I  do  hope  you've  not  overdone  yourself." 

She  looked  at  him  critically,  much  as  an  anxious 


74       POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

mother  might  look  at  a  delicate  child.  In  her  af- 
fection, indeed,  for  the  being  who,  both  physically 
and  mentally,  was  so  much  weaker  than  herself 
there  was  more  of  the  maternal  than  of  the  filial. 

The  Herr  Hartmann  who  presently  sank  down 
on  to  the  chair  before  the  fire  and  passively  allowed 
his  feet  to  be  put  into  the  slippers  which  Irma,  now 
kneeling  on  the  floor,  held  ready,  was  a  come-down 
even  from  the  Mr.  Harding  who,  on  a  February 
day,  now  two  months  back,  had  taken  a  revolver 
out  of  a  drawer.  The  dull  eyes  lay  deeper  in  the 
sockets ;  the  stoop  was  no  longer  that  of  a  man  who 
bends  over,  rather  of  one  who  bends  under,  a  thing. 
The  beard  which  mercifully  covered  the  uneasy 
mouth  had  grown  as  white  as  that  of  a  man  of  sev- 
enty— a  disguise  in  itself.  Yet  were  the  weary  eyes 
not  without  occasional  gleams  of  a  sort  of  tender 
surprise.  One  of  these  gleams  came  to  them  now 
as  he  watched  Irma  on  her  knees.  It  was  so  un- 
usual a  thing  to  be  waited  on  that  it  astonished  him 
anew  each  time. 

Suddenly  he  stooped  forward  and  patted  her 
brown  head. 

"You're  a  good  girl,  Irma !  And  I've  got  a  good 
piece  of  news  for  you,  too!" 

Irma  looked  up,  flushing  with  pleasure,  more  at 
the  praise  than  at  the  promise. 

"Have  you,  papa?  Out  with  it,  then!  I'm 
rather  in  want  of  something  good." 

"Well,  what  do  you  say  to  a  new  pupil?    And 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE      75 

do  you  feel  able  to  play  the  Hungarian  mistress  as 
well  as  the  German?" 

Irma  got  rapidly  to  her  feet. 

"A  new  pupil  ?  But,  papa,  that  is  just  what  I've 
been  praying  for !  Tell  me  about  it  quickly !  Boy 
or  girl?  What  age?  How  often  a  week?  Will 
they  pay  well  ?  Gracious,  how  mercenary  one  does 
get,  to  be  sure !"  And  her  laugh  rang  out  as  mer- 
rily as  in  the  days  of  prosperity. 

* 'They '11  pay  very  well;  and  it's  a  boy,  but  rather 
a  big  boy,  I  gather,  since  he's  in  the  Foreign  Office." 

Irma's  face  fell. 

"Oh,  a  young  man.  I've  had  rather  enough  of 
young  men  for  the  present.  There  are  certain  in- 
conveniences attached  to  the  species." 

"I've  thought  of  the  inconveniences,  and  I've 
stipulated  that  the  lessons  are  to  take  place  in  the 
presence  of  the  grandmother,  a  regular  double-dyed 
old  dragon,  whose  mere  look  ought  to  be  enough 
to  extinguish  any  flirtatious  inclinations  on  the  part 
of  the  grandson.  But  I  didn't  think  it  necessary 
to  mention  your  exact  age;  it  might  have  frightened 
them  off,  though  it  seems  he's  very  keen  about  the 
lessons.  He's  a  diplomat  who,  for  some  profes- 
sional reason  or  other,  wants  to  learn  the  language. 
It's  rather  a  chance;  but  if  you  don't  like  the  idea, 
of  course  we  can  cry  off." 

"Cry  off?    Not  for  worlds!" 

All  Irma's  spirit  of  enterprise  had  risen  to  the 
surface. 


76       POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

"I'll  keep  the  diplomat  in  order,  never  fear,  papa, 
even  without  the  dragon's  intervention.  Of  course, 
she'll  suspect  me  of  wanting  to  make  eyes  at  him — 
they  always  do ;  but  I  don't  mean  even  to  give  him 
a  chance  of  discovering  what  colour  my  eyes  are; 
they  shall  be  continually  glued  to  the  book — just 
you  see  if  they  won't!  And  I'll  brush  my  hair 
smooth  and  coil  it  tight  and  make  myself  look  as 
spinstery  as  I  possibly  can.  Oh,  how  tiresome  peo- 
ple are,  and  how  much  more  convenient  a  plain  face 
would  be — in  my  profession  of  life,  that  is  to  say." 

"Hadn't  you  something  to  tell  me?"  asked 
Harding,  as  he  watched  her,  with  his  faint  smile. 

"Ah,  that  doesn't  matter  now.  It's  only  that 
I've  lost  a  pupil,  that  Potts  boy,  you  know.  I  was 
rather  down  in  the  mouth  about  it  when  you  came 
in  because  of  the  hole  in  the  budget.  But  the  diplo- 
mat fills  up  the  hole  beautifully.  I  say,  papa,  what 
faces  they'll  make  when  I  come  into  the  room !  I'll 
bet  anything  they're  expecting  the  regular  accom- 
plished old  cat.  I  hope  that  shock  won't  be  too 
great  for  them.  No,  after  all,  I  don't  want  to  be 
plain,  but  I'm  going  to  be  terribly  proper!" 

As  a  proof  of  which  Irma«clapped  her  hands  and 
took  a  waltz-turn  round  the  dim  table  and  almost 
up  against  Pattie,  who  at  that  moment  appeared 
with  the  supper-tray  and  woefully  swollen  eyes. 
The  child  within  Irma,  though  generally  invisible 
nowadays,  was  not  yet  dead,  after  all. 

"What  was  it,  Pattie — a  saucer?"  she  queried, 


POMP  AND   CIRCUMSTANCE       77 

breathless  but  sympathetic.  "Mrs.  Martin  seemed 
to  be  in  very  fine  form." 

"A — a  soup-thereen,  miss,"  gasped  Pattie;  "the 
same  as  I  broke  last  week." 

"Pattie,  you're  a  genius!  Most  people  only 
break  things  once.  How  do  you  manage?" 

"And  sure  a  thereen  has  two  handles,  hain't  it?" 
remarked  Pattie,  with  a  touch  of  offended  dignity, 
as  of  one  whose  powers  are  being  unrightfully 
doubted. 

"To  be  sure !  But  what  a  pity  it's  only  two, 
Pattie !  What  are  handles  there  for,  I  should  like 
to  know  ?  But  cheer  up,  Pattie — this  simplifies  the 
future  considerably !  Without  handles  it'll  be  ever 
so  much  easier  to  drop  than  with  handles,  you 
know!" 

Against  this  suggestion  the  gloom  on  Pattie's 
face  was  not  proof.  Indeed,  a  saving  sense  of 
humour  was  among  the  boons  which  a  merciful 
Providence  had  shed  upon  an  otherwise  not  rosy 
lot.  So  instantaneous  was  the  display  of  the  crazy- 
looking  teeth,  so  abrupt  the  burst  of  laughter,  that 
Irma's  intervention  alone  saved  the  plates  from  the 
fate  predicted  for  the  remains  of  the  tureen. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE   PUPIL 

DESPITE  her  brave  speeches,  it  was  for  Irma  a 
nervous  moment  when  Henders,  with  a  dignity  of 
demeanour  before  which — in  her  unfamiliarity  with 
the  genus  "British  butler" — she  secretly  quailed, 
preceded  her  up  the  thickly  carpeted  staircase  in 
Eaton  Place  and  into  the  presence  of  Lady  Aurelia. 
Not  of  Lady  Aurelia  alone,  for — with  the  exception 
of  the  pupil  himself,  who  had  not  come  up  to  time 
— the  family,  by  a  sort  of  tacit  understanding,  had 
gravitated  towards  the  morning-room.  Vincent's 
Hungarian  lessons,  considering  their  purpose,  could 
not  be  regarded  otherwise  than  as  a  family  event. 

When — Henders,  after  the  announcement  of 
"Miss  'Artmann,"  having  closed  the  door  behind 
him — Irma  found  herself  opposite  to  a  very  old 
lady  with  a  dark  yellow  face,  she  instinctively 
dropped  a  curtsey,  and  then  checked  herself  half- 
way, remembering  that  this  was  not  Austria,  while 
the  consciousness  of  her  blunder,  as  well  as  of  the 
presence  of  three  other  people  in  the  room,  caused 
the  pink  roses  in  her  cheeks  to  deepen  to  crimson. 

78 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE      79 

The  dead  silence  which  followed  her  entry,  though 
possibly  flattering  to  her  vanity,  was  nevertheless 
disturbing.  Each  of  the  four  people  present  was 
virtually  gaping — mentally,  if  not  physically,  and 
each  after  his  or  her  fashion.  Lady  Aurelia's  eyes 
had  narrowed  to  pin-points,  the  ex-Ambassador's 
chronic  smile  became  paralysed  upon  his  lips,  while 
the  animated  Dresden  figures  drew  nearer  together, 
visibly  flurried. 

Of  course  it  was  Lady  Aurelia  who  recovered 
first. 

"You  are  Fraulein  Hartmann?"  she  enquired, 
after  that  brief  and  speechless  pause,  while  her  yel- 
low hand  groped  for  her  eyeglasses. 

"Yes,  I  am  Fraulein  Hartmann." 

"Well,  I  shouldn't  have  thought  so,"  decided 
the  dowager,  having  found  and  used  her  glasses; 
and,  devoid  of  logic  though  the  remark  might  be, 
it  nevertheless  very  fairly  represented  the  impres- 
sions of  the  rest  of  the  spectators. 

"Will  you  allow  me  to  help  you  out  of  your 
jacket?"  asked  Sir  Christian,  quite  himself  again 
now — more  than  himself,  in  fact,  since  the  sight  of 
such  a  face  was  almost  enough  to  make  the  "wom- 
an's man"  forget  his  white  hairs. 

"Thank  you.    And  my  pupil  ?" 

Her  eyes  went  round  the  room  with  the  question, 
but  fell  only  upon  Chrissie  and  Cissy  standing  close 
together  and  still  regarding  her  in  undisguised  as- 
tonishment. There  they  hung  for  a  moment  wist- 


8o       POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

fully.  Girls  of  her  own  age,  and  living  in  the  same 
sort  of  social  paradise  in  which  she  had  once  lived, 
or  one,  at  any  rate,  on  the  same  level  of  material 
comfort — well  cared  for,  jealously  guarded,  not  ex- 
posed to  the  accident  of  rude  encounters.  Her 
heart  tightened  at  the  quick  comparison.  But  these 
were  not  her  pupils,  nor  the  old  lady,  nor  the  old 
gentleman.  There  was  nothing  in  the  room  that 
could  be  construed  into  a  diplomat. 

"Your  pupil  will  be  here  directly.  The  lesson 
takes  place  in  this  room.  I  think  you  will  find  that 
table  convenient.  You  have  books  with  you,  I  pre- 
sume?" 

"Nothing  but  a  dictionary,  as  yet;  but  I  have  or- 
dered a  grammar.  I  was  not  prepared  for  giving 
Hungarian  lessons,  you  see;  but  I  shall  manage 
meanwhile." 

"Christian,"  remarked  Lady  Aurelia,  who  had 
been  impatiently  watching  her  son-in-law's  manipu- 
lations, "I  beg  that  you  leave  that  jacket  alone; 
and  I  likewise  beg  that  you  leave  Fraulein  Hart- 
mann  and  me  alone.  I  wish  to  consult  with  her 
about  her  method  of  teaching ;  and,  at  any  rate,  we 
can't  do  with  so  much  public." 

Thus  unambiguously  ordered  from  the  room, 
Chrissie  and  Cissy  retired  regretfully;  for  they  had 
hoped  to  pick  up  a  few  Hungarian  crumbs,  which — 
who  knows  ? — might  come  in  useful  some  day.  And, 
besides,  Fraulein  Hartmann's  hat  had  a  cachet  of 
its  own,  which  would  have  been  worth  while  study- 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE       81 

ing.  They  were  followed  by  their  no  less  regretful 
father. 

"I  have  brought  a  copy-book,"  said  Irma,  in  as 
professional  a  tone  as  she  could  muster;  for  this 
tete-a-tete  with  the  "Dragon"  was  more  than  she 
had  bargained  for.  "Dictation  is  indispensable,  of 
course.  I  see  there  are  plenty  of  pens,  and  I  sup- 
pose there  is  blotting-paper,  too?" 

There  was  no  answer,  and  she  looked  up  ner- 
vously, to  find  Lady  Aurelia  regarding  her  with  a 
hard,  unwinking  stare. 

"You  have  very  fine  eyes,  my  dear,"  was  all  the 
answer  made  to  the  remark  about  the  blotting- 
paper. 

Irma  flushed  hotly. 

"Rather  early  in  the  acquaintance  for  the  re- 
mark, eh  ?  Perhaps  it  is,  but  at  my  age  one  doesn't 
usually  care  about  losing  time.  I  therefore  take 
the  liberty  of  repeating  that  you  have  very  fine  eyes. 
Allow  me  to  add  that  I  hope  you  know  how  to  man- 
age them." 

"I — I  don't  understand." 

"Oh,  yes,  you  do — unless  you're  a  fool,  which 
you  don't  look.  I  said  manage,  mind,  and  not  use. 
Any  idiot  could  use  eyes  like  that;  but  it  takes 
brains,  as  well  as  will,  to  keep  them  in  order.  I 
hope  you  can  do  that,  for  if  you  can't  your  pupil 
will  have  to  get  his  Hungarian  lessons  elsewhere." 

Irma  audibly  gasped.    "Lady — Lady " 

"Aurelia,"  supplemented  the  dowager,  calmly. 


82       POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

"Lady  Aurelia,  I  didn't  expect  to  be " 

"In  case  you  are  thinking  of  saying  'insulted,'  I 
should  recommend  you  to  reconsider  the  expression. 
Pointing  out  plain  facts  isn't  an  insult,  so  far  as  I 
know,  and  the  fact  of  your  being  a  young  woman 
and  my  grandson  being  a  young  man  may,  I  think, 
be  considered  as  beyond  dispute.  These  are  cir- 
cumstances under  which  the  acquisition  of  languages 
is  apt  to  suffer.  In  fact,  to  be  plain  with  you,  if  I 
had  seen  you  before  to-day  I  would  never  have  con- 
sented to  the  arrangement." 

"Neither  would  I,  if  I  had  known,"  burst  out 
the  quivering  Irma.  "And  I  am  quite  ready,  even 
now,  to  break  the  engagement,  if  you  so  wish  it. 
I  can  go  away  at  once — this  minute — there  is  still 
time " 

But  in  this  she  was  mistaken ;  there  was  no  more 
time,  for  just  then  the  door  was  flung  open,  and 
Vincent,  a  little  breathless  from  having,  in  the  con- 
sciousness of  his  tardiness,  taken  two  steps  at  a  time, 
stood  on  the  threshold. 

"I  am  sorry,  granny,"  he  began,  and  then 
stopped  short,  staring  with  almost  unmannerly 
breadth  at  the  beautiful,  angry  girl  in  the  middle-of 
the  room,  whose  quivering  lips,  shining  eyes  and 
heaving  bosom  presented,  a  picture  of  emotion  so 
unconventional  as  almost  to  startle,  among  these 
conventional  surroundings.  What  was  she  doing 
here?  What  had  his  grandmother  been  doing  to 
her?  Where  was  the  German  spinster?  The  ques- 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE       83 

tions  darted  through  his  mind  like  the  zigzags  of 
lightning.  He  was  on  the  point  of  saying,  "Will 
you  introduce  me?"  when  Lady  Aurelia,  in  some- 
what trailing  accents,  remarked: 

"This  is  your  pupil,  Fraulein  Hartmann,"  where- 
upon he  executed  what  was  probably  the  most  awk- 
ward bow  of  his  life — one  not  at  all  up  to  the  height 
of  professional  traditions.  Even  a  diplomat  could 
not  be  expected  so  quickly  to  readjust  the  differences 
between  the  alte  Jungfer  in  his  mind  and  the 
Hungarian  teacher,  such  as  she  presented  herself 
in  the  flesh. 

With  a  sort  of  wrathful  haughtiness,  Irma  in- 
clined her  head,  scarcely  glancing  in  his  direction. 
If  there  were  any  electricity  in  the  air,  such  as  is 
supposed  to  accompany  the  first  contact  of  two 
human  atoms  who,  from  all  eternity — blindly,  deaf- 
ly, ignorantly — have  been  travelling  towards  each 
other,  to  meet  at  the  appointed  spot  and  in  the  ap- 
pointed moment,  it  was  lost  upon  Irma,  overlaid 
by  the  acuteness  of  the  recent  annoyance.  Just  as 
plain  and  sharp  as  was  his  impression,  just  as  faint 
and  blurred  was  hers.  If  she  had  burst  upon  his 
sight,  he  had  no  more  than  dawned  upon  hers,  and 
not  with  any  accompanying  pleasure;  for  the  indig- 
nation against  the  grandmother  could  scarcely  help 
including  the  grandson.  So  this  was  the  precious 
youth  who  was  to  be  guarded  from  the  danger  of 
her  glances  ?  Well,  they  would  soon  be  able  to  esti- 
mate the  extent  of  that  danger.  She  would  look  at 


84       POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

him  so  little  that,  even  meeting  him  in  the  street, 
she  would  not  know  him  again.  And  so  little  did 
she  look  at  him  on  that  first  day  that  she  had  no 
more  than  a  dim  remembrance  of  rather  remarkably 
broad  shoulders  and  a  rather  remarkably  small 
head. 

"We  were  discussing — methods  of  teaching,"  ob- 
served Lady  Aurelia,  unperturbed. 

"Ah!  and  you  seem  to  have  been  having  some 
differences  of  opinion  on  the  subject,"  laughed  Vin- 
cent, beginning  to  recover  from  the  shock  just  re- 
ceived, though  it  was  only  much  later  that  he  dis- 
covered what  the  nature  of  that  shock  had  actually 
been. 

"Only  a  very  slight  difference,"  said  the  unblush- 
ing dowager.  "And,"  she  added,  with  a  meaning 
look  towards  the  girl,  "I  believe  Fraulein  Hart- 
mann  has  now  perfectly  grasped  my  intentions." 

Irma  met  the  small,  black  eyes,  and  for  a  moment 
visibly  hesitated.  In  the  next  she  turned  to  the 
table  and  put  ready  the  copy-book.  During  that 
moment  she  had  thought  of  what  her  father's  face 
would  be  if  she  was  obliged  to  tell  him  that  the 
hope  of  this  lesson,  too,  was  lost. 

"We  had  better  begin  at  once,"  she  said,  stiffly. 
"I  have  marked  a  list  of  easy  words  in  the  diction- 
ary to  start  with.  I  suppose  you  know  that  Hun- 
garian is  about  the  most  difficult  to  acquire  of  all 
European  languages,  since  it  has  no  relation  to  any 
other?" 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE       85 

"Yes,  I  know  it's  a  hard  nut  to  crack,  but  I  mean 
to  crack  it,  all  the  same." 

"It  is  also  unmelodious." 

"You're  not  encouraging,  Fraulein  Hartmann," 
smiled  Vincent.  "But  I'm  not  to  be  frightened  off. 
At  the  rate  your  country  is  going  ahead  we  shall 
have  to  count  with  her,  and  therefore  with  her 
language." 

"Hungary  is  not  my  country,"  said  Irma,  as 
stiffly  as  before. 

"I  thought  you  were  half  a  Hungarian?" 

"Only  a  quarter,  at  most." 

"And  more  than  a  quarter  English,  I  should 
think,  to  judge  from  your  speech?" 

"Yes,"  began  Irma,  and  then  stopped,  colouring 
painfully.  The  English  element  was  just  the  thing 
that  it  was  prudent  to  keep  out  of  sight.  "That  is 
to  say,  no.  There  is  only  a  little  English  blood  in 
the  family,"  she  said  confusedly.  "We  are  Aus- 
trians." 

Vincent  hastened  to  abandon  a  ground  which  evi- 
dently held  some  unexplained  cause  of  embarrass- 
ment. 

"Even  as  an  Austrian,  Hungarian  affairs  must 
interest  you  deeply.  What  is  the  popular  idea  as 
to  Hungary's  chances  of  independence?" 

"Oh.  you  are  not  going  to  talk  politics,  are  you?" 
asked  Irma,  with  a  look  of  unmistakable  alarm, 
"for  I  don't  know  anything  about  them." 

"So  much  the  better,"  interposed  Lady  Aurelia's 


86       POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

voice  from  the  background.  "I  understood  that 
this  was  to  be  a  Hungarian  lesson,  and  not  a  politi- 
cal conference." 

Biting  her  lip  hard,  Irma  sat  down,  while  the 
fragments  of  the  professional  manner,  which,  un- 
avoidably, had  suffered  both  from  the  embarrass- 
ment and  the  alarm,  were  hastily  gathered  together. 

"Since  you  have  no  knowledge  at  all  of  the  lan- 
guage, we  shall  have  to  begin  at  the  very  beginning. 
I  am  afraid  you  will  find  the  lessons  rather  tedious." 

"I  think  not,"  remarked  Vincent,  with  a  convic- 
tion which  his  grandmother  inwardly  marked,  with- 
out by  any  means  digesting. 

Pupil  and  teacher  were  now  sitting  opposite  to 
each  other,  with  a  narrow  table  between — (Lady 
Aurelia  had  already  resolved  that  it  should  be  a 
broader  one  next  time) — and  Irma  had  taken  a 
firm  hold  of  the  dictionary. 

"I  say,  Fraulein  Hartmann,"  observed  Vincent, 
as  a  sort  of  corollary  to  his  last  remark,  "how  many 
lessons  do  you  think  it  will  take  me  to  get  along 
at  all  in  Hungarian?" 

"I  really  cannot  say.  I  have  never  had  a  Hun- 
garian pupil  before,  as  I  tell  you.  But  I  daresay 
that  in  about  twenty-four  lessons  you*  could  manage 
to  get  yourself  understood." 

"Twenty-four  lessons,  at  two  a  week,"  calculated 
Vincent,  aloud;  "that  adds  up  to  about  three 
months.  Yes,  I  feel  a  presentiment  that  it  won't 
take  less  than  that." 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE       87 

"Will  you  be  so  kind  as  to  write  to  my  dicta- 
tion?" interrupted  the  teacher,  coldly.  "I  shall 
begin  with  the  simplest  forms  of  speech:  I  gen — 
YesjWm— -No." 

"Igen"  mused  Vincent;  "surely  that  is  the  most 
aggressive  form  of  acquiescence  I  have  yet  met 
with !  Two  syllables,  too !  Every  other  nation  I 
am  acquainted  with  acquiesces  in  one  syllable." 

He  was  bending  to  his  task  now,  with  his  "work- 
ing-face" on,  the  lips  hard-set,  the  laughter  sternly 
banished  from  the  hazel  eyes.  A  vision  of  Buda- 
pest, and  of  the  possible  post  to  be  there  attained, 
had  risen  to  blot  out  the  face  at  the  other  side  of  the 
table. 

During  the  half-hour  that  followed,  Lady 
Aurelia,  with  one  eye  upon  the  Times  leader  and 
the  other  upon  pupil  and  teacher,  found  no  occasion 
for  verbal  remark,  though  possibly  some  for  mental 
comment. 

"Well,  what  do  you  think  of  her,  granny?" 
asked  Chrissie,  at  the  very  earliest  moment  at  which 
it  became  possible  to  put  the  question. 

Like  a  stream  whose  dam  has  been  removed,  the 
family  had  flowed  back  into  the  morning-room. 
There  was  no  one  there  but  Lady  Aurelia,  now,  for 
the  departure  of  the  pupil,  in  a  hansom,  to  the  For- 
eign Office,  had  well-nigh  coincided  with  that  of  the 
teacher,  on  foot,  to  the  nearest  'bus  stand. 

"I  think  she  is  a  good  deal  prettier  than  is  at  all 
convenient." 


88       POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

"One  of  the  finest  girls  I  have  seen  for  a  long 
time,"  endorsed  Sir  Christian,  with  the  confidence 
of  a  connoisseur. 

"Isn't  she?  And  I'm  sure  her  hat  is  a  Vienna 
hat — it's  got  such  a  particular  chic.  Why,  she 
doesn't  look  poor  at  all." 

"She  hasn't  been  poor  for  long,  that's  clear — and 
not  from  her  hat  alone,"  added  Lady  Aurelia, 
thinking  of  the«defiant  gleam  in  the  eyes  which  had 
faced  her,  of  the  haughtiness  of  that  brief  inclina- 
tion. "Life  hasn't  had  time  to  tame  her  yet,  and 
her  clothes  haven't  had  time  to  sink  to  the  level  of 
her  fortunes.  They  hail  from  better  days,  evidently 
— and  not  from  distant  ones,  either.  I  shouldn't 
mind  that  if  it  wasn't  for  the  wearer.  How  much 
Hungarian  do  you  expect  Vincent  to  learn  under 
her  tuition?  Not  likely  he'll  keep  his  eyes  to  his 
book  much,  is  it,  with  that  face  two  yards  off?" 

"No  easy  matter,  indeed,"  admitted  the  ex-Am- 
bassador. 

"But  Vincent  is  so  steady,"  objected  Chrissie, 
"and  so  taken  up  with  his  career." 

"He  didn't  look  particularly  steady  when  he  came 
in  an  hour  ago  and  found  her  standing  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  room,  like  an  outraged  queen ;  for  I  had 
been  giving  her  some  friendly  advice." 

"Well,  he  must  have  been  surprised,  of  course, 
and  he  can't  help  admiring  her.  But  you  know 
what  his  principles  are,  and  his  ideas  about  mar- 
riage  -" 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE       89 

"Marriage !"  almost  shrieked  Lady  Aurelia,  with 
an  hilarious  parting  of  her  sunken  lips.  "What  a 
goose  you  are,  Chrissie!" 

"Then  it's  only  a  'flirt'  you're  afraid  of?  But — 
would  that  really  matter  much,  so  long  as  he  learns 
Hungarian?" 

Lady  Aurelia  chuckled.  It  was  a  remark  which 
she  might  almost  have  made  herself,  though,  to  do 
Chrissie  justice,  she  was  not  in  the  least  aware  of 
its  cynicism. 

"A  spice  of  admiration  may  be  an  excellent  in- 
centive to  learning,"  insinuated  Sir  Christian. 

"There's  something  in  that;  and  so  long  as  it 
remains  a  spice,  and  doesn't  become  harmful,  I've 
no  objection.  But  the  line  of  demarcation  isn't  al- 
ways visible  to  the  naked  eye.  And  now  I  beg  that 
these  remarks  cease  for.  the  present  and  that  I  be 
granted  some  repose,  after  the  strain  of  the  last 
hour.  Don't  press  upon  me,  all  of  you!  Give  me 
room  to  fall  1" 


CHAPTER  IV 

MR.   HEKETES 

VINCENT  was  enjoying  himself  greatly.  Doubled 
over  a  sheet  of  foolscap,  across  which  his  pen  trav- 
elled swiftly,  with  pigeon-holes  to  the  right  of  him, 
pigeon-holes  to  the  left  of  him,  an  inkstand  as  deep 
as  a  small  well  in  front  of  him,  and  to  his  rear  an- 
other table  with  another  pen  travelling  over  an- 
other sheet,  he  was  literally  revelling  in  his  task. 
It  was  one  of  those  moments  at  which  his  profession 
appeared  to  him  to  be  entirely  desirable,  as  distinc- 
tive from  others  in  which  he  found  it  chiefly  per- 
plexing. 

The  task  before  him  was  congenial,  partly  be- 
cause it  was  difficult — and  he  loved  tackling  diffi- 
culties— a  polite  but  forcible  warning  to  a  certain 
South  American  State  regarding  its  "perky"  be- 
haviour in  a  recent  commercial  episode,  joined  to  a 
more  or  less  veiled  hint  of  what  would  follow  if  the 
warning  were  disregarded.  The  first  rough  draft 
had  been  too  tame,  the  second  too  fierce.  Now 
Vincent  was  to  be  allowed  a  shot  at  the  happy  me- 
dium. In  his  hands  the  prickly  problem  of  raising 

90 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE      91 

the  ghost  of  a  naval  demonstration  without  pro- 
nouncing the  name  of  the  thing  had  been  entrusted. 

"Let  them  catch  a  sight  of  ship-masts  between 
the  lines,"  had  said  to  him  the  personage  who  at 
that  moment  represented  Great  Britain's  recogni- 
tion of  the  existence  of  other  nations,  "and  let  them 
hear  the  rattling  of  lifted  anchor-chains,  but  not  yet 
that  of  ammunition.  Even  the  glimpse  of  a  single 
cannon-ball  might  make  them  nervous,  and  nervous 
people  are  apt  to  blunder.  You  understand?" 

"Perfectly,"  said  Vincent,  as  he  withdrew  from 
The  Presence. 

And  that  was  why  he  was  now  enjoying  himself 
so  greatly. 

To-day's  work  seemed  like  another  step  on  the 
way  to  that  high  place  which  he  meant  to  occupy 
some  day.  The  class-stamp  of  the  various  homes 
in  which  he  had  spent  his  holidays  between  spells 
of  Harrow  and  Cambridge  had  worked  upon  him 
more  radically  even  than  upon  his  sisters.  Before 
he  was  fifteen  he  had  begun  to  yearn  for  the  possi- 
bility of  that  power  which  he  saw  his  father  wield- 
ing. An  instrument  only,  strictly  speaking,  but  an 
instrument  on  whose  fine  edge  so  much  depended, 
and  which  at  moments  had  to  work  automatically, 
so  to  say,  unable  to  await  the  touch  of  the  hand  that 
guides  it. 

Of  his  capacity  for  the  work  he  did  not  doubt, 
nor  seriously  of  his  vocation.  How  should  he,  with 
the  family  chorus  ringing  in  his  ears,  with  the  fam- 


92       POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

ily  eyes  fixed  upon  him  in  an  expectation  that  was 
so  obviously  hopeful?  Were  they  not  unanimous? 
No — not  quite.  Cousin  Minna's  voice  had,  some- 
how, never  exactly  joined  in  the  chorus ;  which  pro- 
voked him  all  the  more  that  he  could  not  ascribe 
this  abstention  to  want  of  sympathy.  But  Cousin 
Minna  was  abnormal,  which  usually  stands  for  un- 
reasonable, and  some  of  her  ideas  were  distinctly 
dowdy.  Even  she  had  never  told  him  that  he  was 
too  stupid  to  be  a  diplomat;  and  he  would  not 
have  believed  her  if  she  had.  About  that  part  of 
the  matter,  at  any  rate,  he  was  serenely  confident. 
The  canker-spot  of  his  character  was,  in  truth,  a 
certain  vanity  of  intellect,  hungrily  on  the  alert  for 
a  field  of  display;  and  what  field  more  grateful  for 
the  purpose  than  Diplomacy?  Which  more  obvi- 
ously pointed  out  by  family  tradition? 

He  had  thrown  himself  upon  it  with  all  the  verve 
of  an  intrinsically  buoyant  nature.  Possibly  he 
might  make  too  spontaneous  a  diplomat — it  was 
his  danger — but  he  would  never  make  a  vacillating 
one.  International  difficulties  he  would  tackle  as 
joyously  as  he  would  a  stiff  hill-climb,  and  lift 
weights  of  ponderous  discussion  with  as  little  ap- 
parent effort  as  the  dumb-bells.  His  unlikeness  to 
the  traditional  article  stood  rather  in  his  favour. 
A  certain  breeziness  of  manner  and  openness  of 
countenance  comes  in  very  useful  at  times  when 
joined  to  the  essential  capacities;  the  quick  insight, 
the  necessary  mental  "pounce"  upon  the  passing 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE      93 

moment;  above  all,  the  indispensable  self-command. 
Already  was  favour  to  be  read  in  the  eyes  which 
looked  on  him  from  above — envy  in  those  which 
viewed  him  from  a  kindred  level.  His  little  mark 
was  made  already.  Remained  the  big  one.  If  here 
and  there  some  unanalysable — or,  at  any  rate,  un- 
analysed — discomfort  stirred  somewhere  in  the 
background  of  his  mind,  it  was  not  very  hard  to 
smother  it  under  a  load  of  work.  Despite  the 
sunny,  hazel  eyes,  work  had  hitherto  tempted  him 
ever  so  much  more  than  play — in  contradistinction 
to  his  father,  who  had  always  found  time  to  play 
beside  his  work — not  always  to  the  advantage  of 
the  latter.  Nor  did  the  playthings  which  his  father 
had  chosen  exist  for  him — as  playthings,  anyway. 
No  misogynist,  oh, no! — and  not  a  taint  of  the  bear 
about  him ;  frankly  pleased  with  the  sight  of  a  beau- 
tiful face,  but,  because  the  business  of  his  career  had 
hitherto  kept  his  blood  cool  and  his  head  clear,  able 
to  enjoy  the  spectacle  without  disturbance.  He  saw 
no  reason  to  fly,  as  do  those  nervously  aware  of 
their  susceptibility.  Even  he  could  allow  himself 
an  evening's  flirtation,  just  as  the  man  who  is  sure 
of  himself  can  safely  indulge  in  that  glass  of  brandy 
which  to  the  habitual  exceeder  would  be  fatal. 
Cause  for  total  abstinence  there  was  none,  and  the 
less  so  as  "the  right  sort  of  marriage"  figured  con- 
spicuously in  his  programme  of  the  future.  Judge, 
then,  if  Chrissie  had  been  right  in  calling  him 
"steady," 


94       POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

This  blessed  independence  of  the  "sex"  which 
had  been  his  for  twenty-five  years  he  still  believed 
in  his  possession ;  for,  although  the  Hungarian  les- 
sons had  been  going  on  for  three  weeks  now,  Vin- 
cent was  still  serenely  unaware  of  what  had  hap- 
pened to  him  on  the  day  of  his  eruption  into  the 
morning-room  of  Eaton  Place.  That  the  lessons 
had  become  a  delight  he  knew,  indeed,  but  found 
nothing  more  easily  explicable.  Was  not  his  prog- 
ress manifest?  And  were  not  affairs  in  Hungary 
developing  in  exact  accordance  with  his  calcula- 
tions? With  the  new  Embassy  at  Budapest  peep- 
ing out  of  the  clouds,  what  wonder  that  the  days  of 
lessons  in  Eaton  Place  should  have  become  red- 
letter  days? 

It  was  one  of  those  red-letter  days  to-day,  which 
was  partly  the  reason  why  Vincent  was  actually 
whistling  softly  to  himself  while  he  allowed  the 
anchor-chains  to  rattle  between  the  lines  of  the 
"memorandum."  The  weather,  too,  might  have 
helped  to  uplift  his  mood,  for  May  had  come  into 
the  land,  and  even  pushed  into  the  town ;  and  each 
time  he  lifted  his  head,  St.  James's  Park,  young  and 
green,  and  looking  delightfully  out  of  place  here, 
seemed  to-  be  smiling  at  him  with  a  friendly  under- 
standing. The  breeze  which,  through  the  open 
window,  pleasantly  fanned  his  labouring  brow  and 
gently  fluttered  the  sheaves  of  the  legendary  red 
tape  (which,  by  the  bye,  is  pink)  hanging  ready 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE       95 

over  the  knobs  of  the  drawer-handles,  smelt  not 
exclusively  of  soot. 

"Yes — that  point  may  be  considered  settled." 

Strangely  enough,  this  sentence,  framed  in  the 
secretary's  mind,  did  not  apply  to  the  intimidation 
of  the  South  American  State,  but  to  the  colour  of 
the  Hungarian  teacher's  eyes.  At  first  he  had  taken 
them  for  black,  yet  not  all  Irma's  discretion  had 
been  able  to  prevent  his  discovering  that  they  were 
blue. 

"It's  the  size  of  the  pupils  that  does  it,"  he  de- 
cided, even  while  dictating  terms  to  the  distant 
rebel;  "that,  and  the  shadow  cast  by  the  lashes.  I 
wonder  if  I  shall  see  many  eyes  like  that  when  I  am 
secretary  at  Budapest — or  charge  de  affaires — who 
knows?" 

And  yet  theseithree  weeks  had  removed  no  single 
social  barrier  between  teacher  and  pupil.  The  table 
between  them  had  even  grown  broader,  the  duen- 
na's eagle  eye,  if  possible,  sharper — all  the  sharper, 
perhaps,  for  being  disappointed  in  its  expectations. 
Fraulein  Hartmann's  professional  manner  seemed 
to  be  consolidating.  Once  only  Vincent  had  heard 
her  laugh — one  of  those  rare  moments  at  which  she 
forgot  that  she  was  a  teaching-machine  and  remem- 
bered that  she  was  a  human  girl.  It  had  been 
apropos  of  that  ridiculous  "Igen,"  which  particu- 
larly tickled  Vincent's  sense  of  humour. 

"It's  got  a  family  resemblance  to  a  sneeze,"  he 


96       POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

declared.  "Whoever  can  have  invented  it?  Some- 
body with  a  cold  in  his  head,  I  suspect." 

It  was  then  that  Irma  had  laughed;  and  imme- 
diately Vincent  had  mentally  agreed  with  his  grand- 
mother that  the  girl  could  not  have  been  poor  for 
long.  That  laugh  dated  as  plainly  from  better  days 
as  did  the  clothes. 

But  the  question  of  the  "I gen"  was  not  threshed 
out  yet,  it  seemed. 

"I  believe  I've  discovered  why  the  Magyars  need 
two  syllables  to  their  'yes.'  It's  because  they  take 
longer  to  acquiesce  than  other  nations.  Not  fond 
of  knocking  under,  as  poor  Francis  Joseph  must 
know  well  by  this  time.  Am  I  right,  Fraulein 
Hartmann?" 

"It  may  be.  I  have  really  never  thought  about 
it." 

"Then  think  about  it  now,  please,  for  I  want  in- 
struction. I  maintain  that  your  nation — that  is,  the 
nation  which  owns  a  quarter  of  you,"  he  corrected 
— "takes  so  long  about  saying  'yes'  because  it 
doesn't  like  saying  it,  being  by  nature  contradic- 
tious. Is  that  so?" 

"Well,  I  fancy  they  prefer  saying  'Nem,'  on  the 
whole,"  admitted  Irma,  with  a  little  imp  of  a  smile 
pulling  at  the  corners  of  her  mouth,  and  with  an- 
cther  little  imp,  which  she  had  thought  long  dead, 
jumping  up,  like  a  jack-in-the-box,  to  take  just  one 
peep  through  the  window  of  her  eyes.  Maybe  it 


POMP  AND   CIRCUMSTANCE       97 

was  at  that  moment  that  he  had  discovered  their 
real  colour. 

But  these  half-steps  off  the  strict  path  of  duty 
were  brief  and  rare — and  not  one  of  them  could  af- 
ford Lady  Aurelia  the  much-desired  pretext  for 
interference.  Except  in  the  handing  of  copy-books 
across  the  table,  their  hands  had  never  so  much  as 
touched,  since  Fraulein  Hartmann  remained  rigor- 
ously intrenched  behind  the  foreign  fashion  of  a 
mere  bow ;  and  in  the  matter  of  the  copy-books  she 
was  evidently  not  encouraging,  as  Lady  Aurelia 
had  guessed  from  an  occasional  quick  contraction 
of  the  eyebrows. 

Last  time  there  had  been  a  rather  annoying  inci- 
dent connected  with  this  very  point — an  inkstand 
brushed  by  Vincent's  sleeve,  and  which,  toppling 
over,  had  sent  a  thin,  black  stream  straight  in  Frau- 
lein Hartmann's  direction.  She  was  on  her  feet  in 
a  moment,  but  not  before  the  ink  was  dropping  on 
to  her  grey  tweed  dress. 

"Oh!"  she  said,  regarding  it  with  vexation,  as 
quick  tears  started  to  her  eyes,  oblivious  of  all  else 
for  the  moment. 

Vincent  was  beside  her  already,  volubly  remorse- 
ful. 

"My  fault !  Quite  my  fault !  What  a  prodig- 
ious ass  I  am,  to  be  sure !  Oh,  Fraulein  Hart- 
mann, I'm  so  sorry!  But  perhaps  it  won't  leave 
marks!  Can  you  forgive  me?" 

With  a  good  deal  less  than  his  usual  presence  of 


98       POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

mind  he  was  daubing  his  handkerchief  upon  the 
stained  skirt — generously  spreading  the  fatal  black 
in  all  directions. 

Irma  moved  back  sharply,  while  at  the  same  mo- 
ment his  grandmother's  voice  recalled  him  to  both 
reason  and  propriety. 

"Unless  you  want  to  ruin  Fraulein  Hartmann's 
dress  completely,  I  should  recommend  you  to  ring 
for  Sarah  and  leave  the  treatment  to  her.  She  can 
bring  a  sponge." 

"It  will  be  no  use!"  said  Irma,  in  a  tone  whose 
almost  tragic  note  sharpened  his  remorse  tenfold. 
To  her  the  incident  was  well-nigh  tragic,  since  the 
grey  tweed  was  the  most  serviceable  of  those  gowns 
packed  so  hurriedly  in  Vienna  at  dawn  of  day.  "The 
dress  is  spoilt." 

"Then  I'll  give  you  another,"  said  Vincent,  again 
without  reflecting.  "At  least,"  he  modified, 
warned  by  a  swift  uplifting  of  the  dark  head,  "we 
will  give  you  another — won't  we,  granny?  It's 
a  clear  family  debt,  since  this  one  has  been  immo- 
lated on  the  altar  of  the  family's  interests." 

"Thank  you,  I  do  not  require  any  dress,"  said 
Fraulein  Hartmann,  with  the  most  direct  look  he 
had  yet  had  from- her — (nQ,  it  must  have  been  this 
moment,  after  all,  that  settled  the  question  of  the 
eyes) — and  with  a  flame  of  anger  before  which  he 
felt  ready  to  go  down  into  the  dust. 

The  sponge  was  brought,  and,  during  the  re- 
mainder of  the  lesson,  restitution  not  again  referred 


POMP  AND   CIRCUMSTANCE       99 

to.  But  at  the  end  Vincent  lingered  for  a  few  words 
with  his  grandmother. 

"You  know,  granny,  we  can't  allow  this,"  he 
tackled  her  straightway.  "You'll  have  to  invent 
some  way  of  settling  about  that  dress.  Positively 
I  can't  have  Fraulein  Hartmann  suffering  on  ac- 
count of  my  awkwardness." 

"In  that  case  I  should  recommend  more  circum- 
spection in  the  future.  For  the  present  an  applica- 
tion of  lemon-juice  is  all  I  can  suggest." 

"The  dress  will  never  be  the  same  again." 

"Very  likely  not." 

"She  will  have  to  buy  a  new  one." 

"I  daresay  she  can  afford  it.  The  pay  for  these 
lessons  is  rather  abnormal." 

An  impatient  sniff  was  heard.  The  reminder  that 
Fraulein  Hartmann  was  actually  in  his  pay  grated 
against  something  or  other  within  him. 

"She  can't  be  abnormally  well  off,  anyway,"  he 
said,  in  a  tone  which  matched  the  sniff,  "or  she 
wouldn't  be  giving  lessons.  Any  one  with  half  an 
eye  can  see  that  she's  been  trained  for  quite  other 
things.  Just  look  at  her  carriage !  Just  look  at 
the  turn  of  her  head !"  (all  of  which  things  Lady 
Aurelia  had  looked  at  exhaustively  already).  "A 
Reine  en  exile,  that's  what  she  is.  It's  enough  to 
convert  one  back  to  fairy  tales  and  to  the  disguised 
princess  business.  It's  always  the  real  prin- 
cess that  suffers  most,  you  know.  I'll  wager  any- 
thing she  couldn't  sleep  with  a  pea  in  her  bed,  and 


ioo     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

there  I've  gone  and  put  a  whole  handful  of  peas  into 
her  bed  to-day.  Dolt  that  I  am !  Why,  there  were 
actually  tears  in  her  eyes !" 

Lady  Aurelia  made  no  remark;  but,  after  one 
good  look  at  her  grandson,  lowered  her  own  eyes, 
perhaps  to  prevent  any  too  easy  reading  of  the  reso- 
lution which  at  that  exact  moment  touched  the 
height  of  ripeness. 

That  had  been  a  week  ago,  for,  owing  to  a  pres- 
sure of  work,  he  had  been  obliged,  last  Friday,  to 
send  an  apology  to  Eaton  Place,  where,  indeed,  his 
face  had  not  been  seen  since  the  last  Hungarian 
lesson.  A  whole  week  without  the  acquisition  of 
a  new  Hungarian  word!  Small  wonder  that  his 
zeal  should  be  even  keener  than  usual. 

During  the  short  drive  the  recollection  of  the 
ink-stained  dress  returned  to  throw  its  shadow  on 
his  pleasure.  How  discover  a  way  of  making  good 
the  loss,  while  sparing  her  susceptibilities?  An 
anonymous  gift  would  be  too  transparent,  even  sup- 
posing he  had  her  address.  Some  pretext  for  rais- 
ing the  price  of  her  lessons?  Rather  a  prickly  ques- 
tion, that,  too.  Would  the  old  father  be  equally 
difficult  to  tackle?  he  wondered.  He  began  to  wish 
that  he  knew  the  father. 

For  one  moment  after  he  had  opened  the  door 
of  the  morning-room  it  seemed  to  him  as  though  his 
wish  were  accomplished;  but — as  happens  in  mo- 
ments of  accomplishment — the  impression  was 
joined  to  a  disappointment  that  was  almost  dismay. 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     101 

For  in  the  mahogany-visaged,  fiercely  moustachioed 
and  dishevelled-looking  individual  who  rose  at  his 
entrance  he  was  unable  to  recognise  his  conception 
of  the  sort-  of  father  that  Fraulein  Hartmann  was 
likely  to  have.  This  looked  more  like  an  elderly 
gypsy  caught  fresh  upon  a  pitszta,  and  stuffed  any- 
how— without  previous  ablutions — into  ready-made 
clothes  two  sizes  too  large  for  him.  Upon  his 
manly  breast  there  flowed  a  concoction  of  purple 
and  green  which  met  the  spectator  like  a  square 
blow  in  the  eye ;  and  about  his  swarthy  person  there 
floated  an  odour  o-f  tobacco  whose  quality  suggested 
the  refuge  of  the  pocket-handkerchief — the  scented 
one,  by  preference. 

From  this  terrifying-looking  personage  Vincent, 
dumb  with  surprise,  looked  inquiringly  at  his  grand- 
mother. 

"This  is  Mr.  Heketes,  who  has  kindly  under- 
taken to  replace  Fraulein  Hartmann,  prevented 
from  pursuing  her  engagement." 

Nervousness  was  a. thing  to  which  Lady  Aurelia, 
on  principle,  never  owned,  and  to  which  it  was  not 
on  record  that  she  had  ever  succumbed.  Neverthe- 
less, Vincent,  well  acquainted  with  the  grandmoth- 
erly symptoms,  thought  he  detected  a  certain  jar  in 
the  voice  which,  to  his  ear,  spoke  of  a  conscience  not 
absolutely  at  rest.  It  took  him  but  one  moment  to 
review  the  probabilities  of  the  situation,  another  to 
recover  his  scattered  wits — as  Lady  Awelia  knew 
by  the  characteristic  squaring  of  the  jaw. 


102     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

"It  is  very  obliging  of  Mr.  Heketes,"  he  said, 
speaking  from  some  suddenly  reared  pinnacle — 
presumably  of  ice-blocks,  and  with  every  inch  of 
his  physical  height  telling,  in  a  way  it  had  not  told 
but  a  moment  ago — "to  have  taken  the  trouble. 
But  I  am  sorry  he  should  have  been  inconvenienced 
for  nothing.  I  was  coming  to  tell  Lady  Aurelia 
that,  in  view  of  a  very  busy  time  in  our  department, 
I  have  decided  to  suspend  the  lessons  for  the 
present." 

He  made  the  announcement  with  a  coolness  as 
secure  as  though  it  were  not  the  fruit  of  a  moment's 
inspiration.  In  her  heart  of  hearts  Lady  Aurelia 
did  unwilling  homage  to  so  unimpeachable  an  ex- 
hibition of  "cheek." 

Mr.  Heketes's  complexion  had  darkened  percep- 
tibly. 

"I — I  haf  bin  incaged,"  he  muttered  beneath  his 
moustache. 

"Not  by  me.  I  much  regret  the  inconvenience 
you  have  suffered  through  my  relatives  mistaking 
my  intentions.  Naturally  you  shall  have  full  com- 
pensation for  the  loss  of  time.  How  much  do  I  owe 
you  for  this  morning's  excursion?" 

The  black  eyes  began  to  roll  ominously.  "It 
wass  to  haf  bin  two  times  a  week " 

"How  much  do  I  owe  you?"  repeated  Vincent, 
with  an  increase  both  of  politeness  and  iciness,  and 
producing  his  purse. 

"It  wass  to  haf  bin  ten  shillings  a  time,  but " 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     103 

"You  have  upset  other  arrangements — I  quite 
understand.  Will  a  five-pound  note  cover  your 
loss?  I'm  glad  I  happen  to  have  one  here.  And 
now  I  should  advise  you  not  to  lose  another  moment 
in  making  up  for  lost  time." 

Walking  to  the  door,  he  opened  it  deliberately, 
his  hard-shut  mouth  smiling  in  queer  fashion. 

From  the  five-pound  note  in  his  hand  Mr.  Hek- 
etes  glared  back  at  Vincent.  The  combination  of 
purple  and  green  heaved  in  a  way  which  betrayed 
the  agitation  of  the  bosom  beneath.  For  a  moment 
a  jump  straight  at  Mr.  Denholm's  throat  seemed 
not  unlikely.  With  his  eye  he  measured  him,  and — 
perhaps  as  a  result  of  the  measurement — decided 
to  walk  out  through  the  open  door. 

At  the  little  scene  Lady  Aurelia  had  looked  on, 
passive,  and  actually  smiling.  For  the  life  of  her 
she  could  not  help  enjoying  Vincent  in  a  rage.  Such 
grand,  clean-cut  rages  they  were — as  different  from 
the  ordinary  conception  of  rage  as  is  white-hot  iron 
from  red. 

A  glance  into  the  future  seemed  to  show  her  her 
grandson  ushering  out  the  representative  of  some 
inimical  State  with  just  this  same  "grand  air." 

The  door  closed  upon  Mr.  Heketes,  Vincent  took 
one  rather  deep  breath,  as  though  after  a  deed  ac- 
complished, and  then  turned  to  deal  with  his  grand- 
mother. He  found  her  chuckling. 

"That's  me  you've  put  out  of  the  door,  you  know, 


io4     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

Vincent — it  isn't  poor  Mr.  Heketes  at  all.  I  wager 
anything  you  think  it's  my  fault,  somehow." 

"I  certainly  think  this  arrangement  is  your 
doing." 

The  voice  was  not  so  icy  as  the  one  used  for  Mr. 
Heketes,  but,  in  its  unlooked-for  mildness,  quite  as 
eloquent. 

For  all  answer  Lady  Aurelia  took  from  the  table 
at  her  elbow  an  open  note,  which  she  handed  across 
with  something  of  a  flourish. 

"Read  that,  and  you  will  see  the  falseness  of  the 
accusation." 

She  watched  him  while  he  read,  glad  to  think 
that  neither  street  nor  number  figured  above  the 
date.  After  all,  there  was  no  particular  need  to 
furnish  him  with  a  clue  to  the  recent  teacher's 
whereabouts. 

This  is  what  Vincent  read : — 

"MAY  2nd. 
"DEAR  MADAM, 

"You  will,  I  trust,  excuse  me  if  I  tell  you  that  I 
find  myself  unable  to  continue  the  lessons  in  your 
house.  Mr.  Denholm  will,  no  doubt,  be  able  to 
find  another  teacher. 

"A  line  releasing  me  from  my  engagement  is 
requested. 

"Yours  faithfully, 

"!RMA  HARTMANN." 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     105 

"Curt  enough,  eh?"  queried  Lady  Aurelia,  not- 
ing the  change  upon  his  face. 

"What  did  you  do?" 

"Sent  her  the  line  requested,  of  course;  what  else 
could  I  do?  and  set  about  hunting  for  another  Hun- 
garian teacher — a  stiff  job  it  was,  too;  and  this  is 
all  the  thanks  I  get  for  it!" 

She  uttered  a  cackle  of  a  laugh. 

"I  don't  mean  now — I  mean  before.  What  did 
you  do  in  order  to  make  her  write  this  note?  It's 
the  note  of  a  person  who  has  been  insulted." 

"Insulted?"  repeated  the  dowager,  with  a  perfect 
command  of  countenance,  marking  another  access 
of  secret  admiration;  for  this  piercing  of  the  mo- 
tives of  his  relatives  promised  well  for  the  future 
reading  of  the  mind  of  alien  statesmen.  "What 
earthly  object  could  I  have  in  insulting  a  person  who 
was  getting  you  on  so  nicely  in  the  language  ?  How- 
ever deficient  her  experience,  her  aptitude  is  ob- 
vious," was  graciously  added.  As  matters  stood, 
her  ladyship  could  afford  to  be  magnanimous.  "You 
know  how  anxious  I  am  for  you  to  get  on  with 
your  Hungarian." 

"I  know  you  are  anxious — about  various  things." 

"Which  is  no  reason  for  trying  to  look  like 
Irving  just  before  he  starts : 

"  'Look  here  upon  this  picture,  and  on  this.' 
"Really,  Vincent,  you're  too  tragical  for  the  oc- 


io6     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

casion;  and  I  haven't  either  poisoned  my  brother 
nor  married  a  murderer." 

"Perhaps  I  am,"  said  Vincent,  catching  an  abrupt 
sight  of  himself  through  her  eyes.  What  was  it 
all  about,  after  all?  A  change  of  teacher.  Quite 
harmless,  if  it  had  not  been  done  behind  his  back. 
Of  course,  it  was  only  the  deception  that  riled  him. 

"I'm  anxious  enough  about  your  Hungarian  to 
regret  the  very  neat  way  in  which  you  juggled  that 
brown  man  out  of  the  room.  You  weren't  serious, 
of  course,  about  the  giving  up  of  the  lessons?" 

"Of  course  not,"  Vincent  admitted,  almost  in  his 
every-day  manner.  "But  this  is  a  matter  of  prin- 
ciple." 

"The  question  is:  Where  are  we  to  get  another 
teacher  from?" 

"The  question  is :  Am  I  a  free  British  subject  or 
not?"  asked  Vincent,  between  a  jest  and  a  warning. 
"I  object  to  having  my  teachers  chosen  for  me — at 
least,  sometimes  I  do.  And,  anyway,  I  couldn't 
put  up  with  that  unwashed  brigand.  Neither  his 
taste  in  neckties  nor  in  tobacco  falls  in  with  mine. 
I'll  find  a  teacher  for  myself." 

"Certainly,  my  dear,  just  as  you  like,"  murmured 
Lady  Aurelia,  in  so  close  a  copy  of  the  ex-Ambas- 
sador that  Vincent  was  betrayed  into  a  laugh  such 
as  Irving  had  certainly  never  uttered.  On  the 
whole,  she  was  well  contented  with  her  share  of  the 
victory. 

On  the  street  again,  Vincent  stood  for  a  moment 


POMP  AND   CIRCUMSTANCE     107 

on  the  pavement,  reflecting.  The  friendly  terms  on 
which  he  had  parted  with  his  grandmother  had  not 
deceived  either  of  them.  Each  had  decided  out- 
wardly to  waive  their  cause  of  dissension,  but  each 
was  aware  that  the  cause  was  there,  and  conse- 
quently remained  watchful.  During  that  moment 
upon  the  pavement  Vincent  felt  both  wronged  and 
baffled — also  disappointed.  Presently  the  sight  of  a 
vacant  hansom,  an  enquiring  countenance,  an  up- 
lifted arm,  seemed  to  give  him  an  idea. 

"Six,  Fortague  Street,"  he  said  as  he  mounted. 
And  to  himself:  "I'll  see  what  Cousin  Minna  says 
to  it." 

"Six,  Fortague  Street,"  was  an  address  he  fre- 
quently gave  when  in  want  either  of  comfort  or 
merely  of  a  listener. 


CHAPTER  V 

"CLEAN  WINE." 

"THE  greatest  beauty  that  London  contains — 
that's  what  my  own  Precious  is;  and  as  for  brains 
and  manners — nothing  to  come  near  them  for  ten 
miles  around." 

"Is  that  meant  for  me  or  for  De  Wet?"  enquired 
Vincent,  met  upon  the  threshold  of  Miss  Bennett's 
little,  box-like  drawing-room  by  the  above  address; 
"because  in  the  former  case  I  agree." 

Cousin  Minna  and  De  Wet  were  taking  tea  in 
tete-a-tete,  she  being  a  quite  unremarkable  spinster 
with  her  first  bloom  behind  her — if,  indeed,  that 
rather  opaque-looking  skin  had  ever  bloomed — he 
a  very  remarkable  toy-terrier — in  his  own  opinion, 
anyway,  and  presumably  in  that  of  the  judges  who 
had  once  awarded  him  a  second  prize  at  a  provincial 
dog  show.  In  the  matter  of  deterioration  of  char- 
acter those  judges  had  much  to  answer  for — that 
prize  having  gone  straight  to  De  Wet's  ridiculous 
head.  From  being  merely  harmlessly  conceited  he 
had  become  offensively  so;  compliments  touching 
his  appearance  were  expected  by  him  as  much  as  a 

108 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     109 

matter  of  course  as  he  expected  his  dinner;  nor — 
after  the  pattern  of  the  wicked  queen  in  the  fairy 
tale,  who  daily  interrogated  her  mirror  as  to  the 
supremacy  of  her  beauty  over  all  ladies  in  the  land 
— was  there  any  chance  of  his  retiring  to  his  basket 
for  the  night  until  assured  anew  by  his  mistress  that 
not  another  dog  in  the  metropolis  was  fit  to  hold  a 
candle — or,  perhaps  more  appropriately,  a  bone? — 
to  him.  By  rights  he  ought  to  have  been  called 
Apollo;  instead  of  which,  South  African  news — 
rife  at  the  time  of  his  appearance  on  the  scene — 
had  caused  him  to  be  named  De  Wet;  the  fitness 
of  the  appellation  being  justified  by  Minna  on  the 
ground  that  the  Boer  general  was  practically  invis- 
ible, and  that  the  toy-terrier  could  not  well  be  much 
smaller  than  he  was  without  sharing  this  invisibil- 
ity. With  a  view  to  bringing  him  more  up  to  date, 
there  had  lately  been  some  talk  of  rechristening  him 
"Togo";  but,  considering  that  even  the  Serpentine 
at  midsummer  sent  him  into  shivers  of  terror,  the 
idea  had  been  dropped  as  inappropriate. 

Minna  looked  at  her  cousin  critically. 

"What  is  it  you  have  come  for? — to  be  scolded 
or  patted  on  the  back?" 

"As  if  you  ever  patted  me  on  the  back!  I'm  not 
a  toy-terrier,  alas!" 

"That  means  that  you  are  aware  of  deserving  a 
scolding.  Give  an  account  of  yourself !  It  strikes 
me  that  I  haven't  seen  you  for  about  a  hundred 
years — not  to  speak  to,  anyway." 


no     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

"Minna,  I've  got  a  grievance." 

"Sit  down  and  tell  me  about  it.  But,  first,  please 
say  a  word  to  De  Wet.  Don't  you  see  that  he's 
just  quivering  to  be  taken  notice  of?  I  can't  con- 
ceive what  induces  people  to  trample  upon  an  inno- 
cent dog's  feelings  in  this  barbarous  fashion.  Just 
mention  that  he's  the  flower  of  his  generation,  and 
it  will  be  all  right." 

"And  you  think  it  right  to  pamper  such  vanity?" 

"A  means  of  self-defence.  Unless  you  put  his 
mind  at  rest  about  his  looks  his  eye  will  haunt  us 
all  the  time  we're  talking." 

The  toll  of  compliments  and  caresses  having  been 
somewhat  impatiently  paid,  and  the  canine  atom 
contentedly  withdrawn  to  the  hearthrug,  Minna 
felt  at  liberty  to  turn  her  attention  more  exclusively 
to  her  cousin. 

"So  you  have  a  grievance.    Against  whom?" 

"Against  granny.     She's  been  plotting." 

"Does  she  ever  do  anything  else?  But  I  must 
ask  again:  against  whom?" 

"Against  me,  of  course ;  that  is  to  say,  against  my 
freedom  of  action.  Why  shouldn't  I  take  Hun- 
garian lessons — or  ancient  Celtic  lessons,  for  the 
matter  of  that — from  any  teacher  I  choose?" 

"From  which  I  gather  that  the  plot  is  directed 
not  against  you,  but  against  the  Hungarian  teacher. 
What's  she  been  doing  to  her?" 

"That  I  don't  know  exactly.  But  she's  stung  her 
into  giving  up  her  engagement.  She  denies  it,  of 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     in 

course,  but  that  makes  no  difference.  Just  listen  to 
this." 

There  followed  a  vivid  sketch  of  the  recent  in- 
terview. When  it  came  to  the  ejection  of  Mr. 
Heketes,  Minna  laughed  in  a  way  that  always  did 
Vincent  good.  She  was  generally  described  as  a 
"comfortable"  person,  but  her  laugh  distinctly  held 
the  very  cream  of  this  comfort.  After  the  laugh, 
while  he  still  spoke,  the  steady  grey  eyes  left  his 
face  to  wander  to  the  fireplace,  before  which  the 
morsel  of  canine  flesh  lay  luxuriously  stretched, 
gorged  with  flattery  and  bread-and-butter. 

"Of  course,  she  suspects  a  flirtation.  As  if  she 
hadn't  had  a  thousand  proofs  of  my  incombusti- 
bility!" 

"Yes,  she  knows  you — but  the  girl?" 

"The  girl?  Ha,  ha!  I  tell  you,  Minna,  she 
isn't  a  girl  at  all — not  in  the  ordinary  flesh-and- 
blood  sense,  anyway;  I've  sometimes  thought  she's 
made  of  wood.  As  prim  as  a  Puritan,  I  tell  you; 
never  gives  one  a  chance  of  shaking  hands  with  her, 
and  never  even  looks  in  my  direction,  if  she  can 
help  it." 

There  was  a  certain  wrathfulness  in  the  tone 
which  did  not  escape  Minna's  ears,  though  her  eyes 
were  still  on  the  fireplace,  and  which  failed  to  sur- 
prise her  for  the  reason  that  she  had  happened  to 
come  in  during  one  of  the  Hungarian.lessons.  Miss 
Bennett  and  Lady  Aurelia  did  not  invariably  agree 
upon  all  points,  but  in  this  instance  Minna  found 


ii2     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

herself  quite  appreciating  the  dowager's  motives. 
It  had  struck  even  herself  as — to  say  the  least  of  it 
— quaint  that  Vincent  should  be  taking  lessons  from 
a  person  with  all  the  makings  of  a  professional 
beauty. 

"Why  don't  you  say  anything,  Minna?  I 
thought  you  were  going  to  help  me?" 

"To  another  Hungarian  teacher?" 

"Bother  that !  I'll  beat  one  up  fast  enough.  But 
what  I  would  like  you  to  do  would  be  to  give  Frau- 
lein  Hartmann  a  lift,  somehow.  She's  been  hunted 
out  of  Eaton  Place — whether  directly  or  indirectly 
alters  nothing — and  losing  two  guineas  a  week  so 
suddenly  must  make  a  difference  to  her;  and,  be- 
sides, her  best  dress  is  spoiled  by  me." 

"Do  you  want  me  to  give  her  another?" 

"I  shouldn't  advise  you  to  try,  unless  you  want  to 
be  withered  up,  same  as  I  was  last  week.  But 
couldn't  you  procure  her  other  lessons?  German 
ones,  of  course — she  knows  both  languages.  It 
worries  me  to  think  of  her  possible  situation — and 
she  may  have  given  up  other  chances  for  this  lesson, 
don't  you  see?  It's  quite  natural,  surely,  that  I 
should  feel  rather  guilty  about  it  all,  and  anxious 
that  she — and  her  father,  of  course — shouldn't  suf- 
fer on  this  account." 

"Quite  natural." 

"And  I'm  sure  she's  not  used  to  being  poor.  If 
you  had  seen  her " 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     113 

"I  have  seen  her,"  said  Minna,  in  her  very  quiet- 
est manner. 

"To  be  sure!  Well,  don't  you  agree  with  me 
that  she's  not  the  sort  of  person  one  likes  to  think 
of  as  in  a  pecuniary  fix?" 

"Not  at  all  the  sort  of  person.  What  is  her 
address.?" 

Vincent  looked  discomfited,  also  slightly  embar- 
rassed. 

"I  haven't  got  it.  Granny  managed  everything, 
you  know.  Of  course,  the  girls  will  have  it,  since 
the  old  man  is  their  German  master;  but  if  I  ask 
for  it  they'll  jump  to  all  sorts  of  conclusions,  of 


course." 


"I  see,"  said  Minna;  and,  together  with  a  sus- 
picious jerk  at  the  corners  of  her  lips,  there  fol- 
lowed a  mental  rider: 

"So  that's  why  I  am  to  ask  for  it,  I  suppose. 
Well  done,  Mr.  Diplomat!" 

Then  aloud: 

"Well,  there's  no  use  for  the  address  until  I  have 
some  pupils  to  suggest.  I'll  look  about  me  first." 

"Thank  you,  Minna,"  he  said,  with  a  fervour  of 
which  he  was  not  in  the  least  aware,  though  she 
was.  "That's  a  load  off  my  conscience." 

"So  much  the  better.  But,  meanwhile,  take  my 
advice,  and  don't  attempt  any  unloading  on  your 
own  account.  I  happen  to  understand  your  mo- 
tives, but  other  people  mightn't.  I  am  quite  sure  it 


n4     POMP  AND   CIRCUMSTANCE 

would  be  more — diplomatic,  let's  say,  to  leave  the 
negotiations  to  me." 

She  was  looking  at  him  straight  now,  with  eyes 
which  seemed  to  be  absolutely  transparent  with 
truth;  and  true  they  were,  indeed,  though  it  was  a 
woman's  truth,  which  means  only  as  much  of  it 
yielded  up  as  is  considered  fit  for  male  perusal. 

He  acquiesced  readily,  conscious  principally  that 
the  last  thread  between  him  and  the  Hungarian 
teacher  was  not  irrevocably  severed.  Yet,  even 
while  he  acquiesced,  he  frowned,  for  the  stress  laid 
upon  a  certain  adjective  grated. 

"What  makes  you  say  'diplomatic'  with  that  high 
and  mighty  sniff?  Doesn't  it  smell  good?" 

"On  the  contrary;  it's  just  a  trifle  too  heavily 
perfumed  for  my  taste." 

"With  what?    Roses?    Violets?" 

"No — incense.  The  family  seems  to  have  been 
particularly  busy  over  the  burning  of  it  lately.  I 
understand  from  Chrissie  and  Cissy  that  your  pros- 
pects are  more  dazzling  than  ever.  In  fact,  I'm 
beginning  to  wonder  how  any  one  can  look  at  you 
without  getting  sunstroke." 

"You  can,  anyway.  But,  joking  apart,  things 
are  looking  up.  This  very  day  I  was  given  one  of 
the  most  thorny  jobs  a-going — the  construction  of  a 
bomb  with  the  appearance  of  a  sweetmeat;  and  I've 
a  notion  that  the  chief  will  want  to  kiss  me  when 
he  reads  the  draft.  The  other  fellows  had  bungled 
it  completely." 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     115 

"Ah!" 

Minna  was  leaning  back  in  her  chair,  rather  laz- 
ily, it  struck  Vincent,  throwing  atoms  of  sugar  to 
the  atom  of  a  dog  on  the  hearthrug. 

"It  means  a  step  of  the  ladder,  unless  I'm  mis- 
taken. I  do  believe  now  that  I  have  every  chance 
of  the  Roman  secretaryship — en  attendant  Buda- 
pest. 

Minna  threw  another  morsel  of  sugar  without 
answering. 

"Minna,  you're  enraging !  Do  leave  that  infer- 
nal dog  alone.  You  might  at  least  pretend  to  get 
up  an  interest  in  my  career.  You  used  to  care  about 
what  happened  to  me." 

"Are  you  and  your  career  identical?" 

"Of  course  we  are.  But  look  here — I'd  like  this 
threshed  out,  if  you  please.  Whatever  you  are, 
don't  be  sphinx-like.  It's  not  the  first  time  I've 
caught  you  sniffling.  What's  there  behind  the  sniff  ? 
—that's  what  I  want  to  know.  Do  you  really  mean 
to  say  that  you  doubt  of  my  success?" 

The  question  was  put  with  a  serious  wonder 
which,  in  its  supreme  self-confidence,  brushed  the 
naive. 

"I  don't  doubt  about  your  getting  to  the  top  of 
the  ladder,  if  that's  what  you  mean  by  success." 

"Then  what?" 

"You  really  would  like  me  to  say  what  I  think?" 

"I  think  I  should  like  to  strangle  you  if  you 
don't," 


n6     POMP  AND   CIRCUMSTANCE 

"Well,  then,  my  inmost  conviction  is  that  you're 
about  as  well  adapted  to  be  a  diplomat  as  a  por- 
cupine is  adapted  to  be  a  pocket-handkerchief." 

Across  the  tea-table  Vincent  stared  at  his  cousin 
with  a  countenance  emptied  for  the  moment  of  in- 
telligence by  the  force  of  sheer  surprise.  Thus 
stares  a  person  who,  without  warning,  receives  a 
slap  on  the  face,  and  has  not  yet  had  time  to  get 
angry. 

"Your  similes  are  vigorous,"  he  conceded,  as  his 
senses  returned  to  him,  and  looking  all  the  grimmer 
for  the  sudden  smile.  "I'll  trouble  you  now  for  the 
grounds  of  your  belief.  Why  am  I  not  suited  to 
be  a  diplomat?  Nothing  wrong  with  my  thinking 
machine,  mind,"  he  added,  with  a  quite  discernible 
note  of  warning  in  his  voice. 

"No;  you're  not  too  stupid — I  agree  there." 
("Thank  you,"  murmured  Vincent,  in  an  ironical 
sotto  voce.)  "You've  got  the  mental  qualifications, 
I  think,  but  not  the  moral  ones." 

"Which  means?" 

"Which  means  that  though,  as  I  have  already  re- 
marked, I  quite  believe  in  your  getting  to  the  top 
of  the  ladder,  I  think  you  will  be  paying  too  high 
a  price  for  it." 

"What  price?" 

"I  rather  fancy  it  will  be  the  price  of  self- 
respect." 

Vincent  pushed  back  his  chair  impatiently  and 
got  up. 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     117 

"I  thought  it  was  that!  You've  given  it  me 
before,  but  never  quite  so  plainly  as  this.  The  old 
fable  of  accredited  Machiavellists !  We're  a  set 
of  snakes,  aren't  we? — plotting  day  and  night  for 
the  undoing  of  our  fellow-creatures  1  Really, 
Minna,  I  have  hitherto  given  you  credit  for  being  a 
grown-up  person,  but  you  seem  to  see  bogeys  as 
easily  as  does  a  nervous  baby." 

"If  you're  not  plotting  day  and  night,"  replied 
Minna,  unmoved,  "for  the  good  of  your  country, 
and  consequently  for  the  undoing  of  other  countries, 
then  you're  not  doing  your  duty — that's  all." 

Vincent,  hands  in  pockets,  and  looking  several 
sizes  too  large  for  the  room,  was  trying  to  find  a 
clear  space  wherein  to  relieve  his  feelings  by  means 
of  physical  exercise — not  successfully.  He  now 
turned  with  a  movement  of  exasperation. 

"Out  of  your  own  mouth  I  condemn  you  1  What 
more  than  his  duty  can  a  man  do  for  the  earning  of 
self-respect?" 

"Nothing,  when  it's  Fate  that  imposes  it.  But 
in  the  case  of  a  career  the  duty  is  self-chosen,  isn't 
it?" 

"And  no  honest  man  would  choose  it,  you  mean? 
That  comes  to  saying  that  all  the  Corps  Diplo- 
matiques  of  all  the  world  are  liars  and  intriguers 
by  nature,  and  that  self-respect  is  a  quality  not  to 
be  found  within  the  walls  of  an  embassy?" 

Minna  laughed  again,  as  comfortably  as  ever. 

"There  you  go  again !    Much  too  headlong  for 


n8     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

a  diplomat!  /  never  said  that  the  profession  at 
large  is  devoid  of  self-respect — I  merely  hazarded 
the  opinion  that  you,  personally,  would  find  some 
difficulty  in  preserving  the  article,  under  the  cir- 
cumstances." 

"Your  reasons,  please!"  fumed  Vincent,  turning 
and  returning  upon  the  eight  square  yards  of  clear 
space. 

"It's  this  way  it  strikes  me:  some  people  have 
got  the  knack  of  keeping  their  private  and  their 
official  morals  in  water-tight  compartments;  you 
haven't  got  that  knack.  For  these  people  there's 
nothing  degrading  about  telling  official  lies,  or  half- 
truths,  or  whatever  you  choose  to  call  them,  or  mak- 
ing mental  reservations,  or  shuffling  and  fencing 
and  juggling  with  words  generally,  which  in  any 
diplomacy  worth  the  name  I  hold  to  be  an  indis- 
pensable art.  For  you  this  same  practice  would  be 
degrading,  because  you  would  be  acting  against 
your  own  inner  convictions — violating  some  instinct 
within  you  which  I  don't  believe  you'll  ever  be  able 
to  kill.  You  were  always  rather  a  prig  in  the  matter 
of  truth-speaking,  you  know.  Don't  I  remember 
during  those  Easter  holidays  you  spent  at  Merriton 
the  half-astonished,  half-scandalised  face  you  used 
to  make  when  mamma,  giving  her  order  for  the 
afternoon,  would  say  to  the  footman,  'Not  at  home 
for  any  one  to-day,  mind,  William.'  'But,  Aunt 
Sophy,  surely  you  are  at  home?'  you  would  object, 
wide-eyed.  And  when  she  told  you  she  had  a  head- 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     119 

ache  and  did  not  want  to  be  disturbed:  'Then  why 
not  say  you  have  got  a  headache?'  Oh,  you  were 
killing,  in  your  way.  And  the  peaches — surely  you 
remember  the  story  of  the  peaches,  Vincent?" 

The  grunt  which  came  from  the  perambulating 
figure  could  have  stood  equally  for  assent  or  the 
reverse. 

"You  and  Hal  Thornley  had  been  visiting  the 
peach-houses — in  the  gardener's  absence,  of  course, 
though  in  my  company.  Just  as  we  were  success- 
fully withdrawing,  the  head  man  barred  our  pas- 
sage. I  can  hear  his  tones  still,  threatening,  though 
respectful: 

"  'Now,  I'm  not  going  to  do  you  young  gentlemen 
the  disgrace  of  turning  out  your  pockets  before  the 
young  lady;  I'll  content  myself  if  you  will  give  me 
your  word  of  honour  as  gentlemen  that  there's  no 
peaches  in  'em !' 

"  'I  give  you  my  word — not  one  Psaid  Hal,  with- 
out a  moment's  hesitation,  and  looking  the  gardener 
straight  in  the  eyes ;  whereas  you  first  turned  scarlet, 
shifted  from  one  foot  to  the  other,  and  finally,  tear- 
ing your  cap  off  your  head,  sent  half  a  dozen 
peaches  bobbing  off  your  shoulders  to  the  ground. 

"Previous  experience  had  taught  Hal  that  a  cap 
is  sometimes  a  safer  cache  than  a  pocket.  You  had 
been  quite  pleased  with  the  cleverness  of  the  idea, 
but  you  couldn't  act  upon  it  when  it  came  to  the 
scratch,  even  though  it  didn't  entail  telling  a  lie — 
in  words.  But  you  could  knock  Hal  down,  and 


120     POMP  AND   CIRCUMSTANCE 

squarely,  too,  when  he  called  you  a  tell-tale.  In 
those  days  you  were  certainly  not  of  opinion  that 
'la  parole  a  etc  donnee  a  I'homme  pour  deguiser  sa 
pensee' ;  and  I  don't  believe  you're  any  different 
now.  You're  the  sort  of  person  who  likes  playing 
cartes  sur  table,  as  distinguished  from  those  who 
enjoy  having  cards  up  their  sleeve.  You're  quite 
able  to  get  them  up  your  sleeve,  and,  if  it  happens 
to  serve  your  end,  I  believe  you'd  do  it;  but  your 
rather  hyper-sensitive  conscience  would  be  protest- 
ing all  the  time,  as  I'm  quite  sure  it  protested 
against  the  white  lie  you  told  Mr.  Heke — some- 
thing or  other  about  giving  up  the  lessons.  No 
need  to  knock  down  my  furniture,  though" — as 
Vincent  lunged  blindly  against  a  bookcase — 
"even  if  I  have  happened  to  hit  a  nail  upon  the 
head.  That's  where  I  see  the  danger  to  your  self- 
respect.  It's  a  question  of  individuality,  I  main- 
tain. The  same  thing  applies  to  the  stage.  For 
some  women  publicity  is  a  moral  degradation,  for 
others  not.  Just  the  other  day  I  was  reading  in  the 
biography  of  some  celebrity  about  the  agonies  she 
underwent  each  time  she  was  called  upon  to  make 
a  spectacle  of  herself,  and  of  her  most  sacred  emo- 
tions. People  seemed  to  think  her  a  martyr — to 
me  she  appears  despicable.  The  moment  that  she 
felt  degraded  she  was  degraded.  The  higher  or  the 
lower  actress — that  is,  the  one  who  is  either  carried 
out  of  her  personality  by  her  art,  or  the  one  who 
simply  doesn't  rise  to  the  level  of  scruples — is  all 


right.  It  all  depends  upon  whether  you  are  doing 
the  thing  with  conviction  or  against  your  conviction. 
I  don't  know  if  I  can  make  my  meaning  clear?" 

"You're  doing  your  best,  anyway." 

"I've  heard  enough  about  embassies  to  know 
that  they're  nothing  if  not  hotbeds  of  intrigue — 
political  intrigue,  of  course,  which  the  world  has 
agreed  to  consider  respectable.  The  crooked  paths 
may  be  frightfully  interesting,  I've  no  doubt;  but 
you've  got  to  learn  to  turn  and  twist  before  you 
can  follow  them  comfortably,  and,  somehow,  I 
can't  quite  see  you  wriggling  round  the  corners. 
How  do  you  like  the  idea,  for  instance,  of  having 
secret  rendezvous  with  a  spy  anxious  to  sell  his 
country  into  your  hands,  or  of  bribing  some  menial 
soul  to  let  you  have  the  pickings  of  a  ministerial 
paper-basket,  and  that  same  evening  sitting  at  the 
table  of  that  same  minister  and  exchanging  with 
him  smiling  banalitesf" 

"Those  horrors  don't  exist  in  English  diplo- 
macy." 

"Don't  they?  Then  English  diplomacy  must  be 
several  lengths  behind  Continental.  It's  no  wonder 
we're  considered  so  na'ive.  But  never  mind  the 
paper-basket — that's  the  small  dirty  work.  It's 
much  bigger  work,  of  course,  to  give  solemn  assur- 
ance of  your — that  is,  of  your  country's  peaceful 
intentions,  while  behind  the  convenient  screen  that 
same  country  is  arming  to  the  teeth;  but  is  there  any 
radical  difference  between  the  two  jobs?" 


122     POMP  AND   CIRCUiMSTANCE 

"Minna,  you're  horrible!  I  won't  listen  to  an- 
other word.  Don't  imagine  you'll  persuade  me  that 
I'm  on  the  wrong  tack.  Why,  this  morning,  while 
I  was  drafting  that  note,  no  fish  in  the  sea  could 
have  felt  more  completely  in  its  element  than  I  did. 
Oh,  no — I  know  I'm  a  born  diplomat." 

"And  would  the  note  be  acted  upon  if  disre- 
garded?" 

"Wouldn't  it  just!" 

"Ah!  that's  why  you  felt  in  your  element.  You 
knew  it  was  no  pose,  but  an  over-board  business, 
and  you  were  only  too  glad  of  the  chance  of  calling 
a  spade  a  spade,  instead  of  having  to  pretend  that 
it  was  a  walking-stick  or  a  sun-shade." 

Vincent  frowned  portentously. 

"Ridiculous!  Why  should  I  have  gone  into 
diplomacy  if  I  didn't  feel  that  way?" 

"Because  you're  in  love  with  place  and  power, 
and  because  diplomacy — for  family  reasons — of- 
fered the  line  of  least  resistance." 

"Power — ah,  yes!  I  don't  deny  that.  But  can 
a  man  be  in  love  with  anything  nobler?  Minna, 
you  don't  know  the  delight  of  feeling  that  you  are 
master  of  your  task,  and  master,  consequently,  of  a 
whole  lot  of  men.  Pawns  on  the  political  chess- 
board— that's  what  the  mass  of  them  are,  and  your 
hand  to  be  the  one  to  move  them  some  day,  per- 
haps— who  knows  ?  The  step  from  an  embassy  to 
a  minister's  bench  has  been  taken  before  now." 

Minna's  eyes  followed  him  as,  faster  than  ever, 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     123 

he  turned  upon  the  clear  space,  smiling  straight  into 
his  visions. 

"It's  not  power  in  the  abstract  that  you're  in  love 
with,  but  with  your  personal  power  in  the  concrete. 
In  fact,  not  to  put  too  fine  a  point  upon  it,  you're 
suffering  from  a  disease  popularly  known  by  the 
name  of  swelled  head.  One  of  its  symptoms  is  an 
unquenchable  thirst  for  flattery.  You  scoff  at 
De  Wet  because  of  his  greed  for  compliments,  but 
you're  quite  as  bad,  really." 

"I  get  none  from  you,  anyway." 

"Because  you're  not  a  toy-terrier,  as  you  lately 
observed  yourself.  I've  resigned  all  hope  of  up- 
rooting De  Wet's  conceit,  but  I  still  occasionally 
dream  of  curing  you.  That's  another  reason  why 
I  can't  gush  over  your  choice  of  a  path  of  life. 
There's  too  much  pomp  and  circumstance  about  an 
embassy,  and  there's  nothing  so  bad  for  a  swelled 
head  as  pomp  and  circumstance." 

Vincent,  giddy  with  turning  and  returning,  fell 
on  to  a  chair,  laughing  a  little  ruefully. 

"A  comfortable  sort  of  person  to  come  to  for 
sympathy,  in  truth !  I  don't  in  the  least  understand 
what  makes  me  come  to  you,  Minna  !" 

"I  think  I  do.  It's  because  you  get  no  incense 
here.  Apt  to  become  a  little  choky  at  times,  you 
know.  Instead,  you  get  what  the  Germans  call 
'clean  wine,'  and  you  can't  help  approving  the  fla- 
vour of  it — another  proof  that  you're  a  square  peg 
in  a  round  hole." 


I24    POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

"But  you  just  said  that  my  thirst  for  flattery  was 
unquenchable?" 

"So  it  is;  but  man  is  a  composite  animal,  you 
know,  and  the  better  part  of  you  is  not  yet  quite 
choked  off  by  the  other." 

"Thank  you.  I  think  that  is  about  as  much 
'clean  wine'  as  I  can  carry  for  the  present.  Any 
objection  to  changing  the  subject?" 

"None  whatever.  I've  another  lying  all  ready. 
Do  you  know  that  Bob  Kendall  is  in  town?" 

"Is  he?    I  knew  that  he  was  on  his  way  home." 

Minna  stirred  the  dregs  of  her  tea  rather 
thoughtfully. 

"Has  it  ever  struck  you,  Vincent,  that  that  man 
is  a  hero?" 

"A  hero?  You're  beyond  me,  Minna.  Where, 
in  the  name  of  all  that  is  inappropriate,  do  you  dis- 
cover anything  heroic  about  old  Bob?" 

"It's  drab-coloured  heroism,  if  you  like — hero- 
ism incog,  I  should  call  it ;  but  it's  the  right  article, 
all  the  same.  Just  think  of  the  existence  he  leads 
and  how  he  leads  it!  Have  you  ever  heard  him 
complain  of  any  single  thing  in  the  world?" 

"Oh,  he's  an  excellent  drudge,  no  doubt.  No 
one  but  a  drudge  could  stand  that  life." 

To  judge  from  the  tone  of  his  voice,  the  subject 
of  Bob  Kendall's  qualities  did  not  grip  Vincent's 
attention  very  hard;  and  almost  in  the  same  breath 
he  said: 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE    1251 

"You  won't  forget  about  Fraulein  Hartmann, 
will  you?" 

There  was  less  danger  of  Minna  forgetting  than 
Vincent  at  all  knew. 

Once  more  en  tete-a-tete  with  De  Wet,  it  was 
Fraulein  Hartmann  who  filled  her  mind  exclusively. 
One  glimpse  of  her  quite  sufficed  to  awaken  in  any 
one  with  an  aesthetic  sense  the  desire  for  a  second. 
After  Vincent's  visit  the  desire  became  a  longing. 

Women  with  broad,  opaque  faces  and  square, 
solid  figures  will  rarely  own  to  anything  warmer 
than  a  cousinly  sympathy  for  male  relatives  who 
are,  moreover,  their  juniors  by  some  five  or  six 
years.  It  is,  therefore,  probable  that  even  en  tete- 
a-tete — not  with  De  Wet,  but  with  her  own  soul — 
Minna  had  never  given  the  right  name  to  her  feel- 
ing for  Vincent.  Her  sense  of  humour  alone  would 
have  acted  as  a  preventive.  But  her  love  (for  that 
really  was  the  right  name,  whether  she  knew  it  or 
not)  did  not  rejoice  in  the  orthodox  blindness  at- 
tributed to  that  passion,  but  was,  on  the  contrary, 
rather  inconveniently  far-seeing — quite  alive  to 
certain  defects  of  construction  in  its  object;  which 
was,  perhaps,  as  much  the  reason  of  its  having 
awakened  no  response  as  was  the  plain  face  itself. 
As  for  hope,  she  had  never  even  glanced  in  that 
direction.  Here,  too,  her  sense  of  humour  had 
stepped  in  savingly;  and  what  between  this  and 
common  sense,  and,  perhaps,  also  an  absence  of  pas- 
sion in  her  nature,  she  certainly  could  lay  no  claim 


126     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

to  unhappiness.  The  future  without  Vincent  might 
be  a  little  grey,  but  it  would  not  be  coal-black.  It 
was  not  her  future  she  was  anxious  about,  but  his. 
She,  too,  had  a  "right  sort  of  marriage"  in  her  mind 
for  him,  but  not  exactly  the  same  sort  as  had  Lady 
Aurelia.  Sometimes  she  would  wonder  how  long 
Vincent's  immunity  from  woman  would  last,  and 
whether,  when  it  ceased,  it  would  be  his  head  or  his 
heart  that  carried  the  day.  Until  now  she  had 
watched  in  vain.  To-day,  for  the  first  time,  it  had 
occurred  to  her  that  possibly  that  immunity  had 
reached  its  limit.  As  she  sat  alone  in  her  tiny  draw- 
ing-room the  desire  to  know  a  little  more  about  the 
first  girl  who  seemed  to  have  made  something  like 
an  impression  upon  Vincent  grew  keen,  perhaps 
only  out  of  a  sort  of  jealous  curiosity.  Of  after- 
thought there  was,  so  far,  none  in  her  mind.  Even 
to  her  "dowdy"  notions  a  paid  teacher  appeared 
too  many  miles  below  Vincent;  but  the  curiosity 
was  not  to  be  gainsaid.  And,  besides,  it  was  a  meas- 
ure of  prudence.  Only  by  her  promise  to  play  Prov- 
idence to  the  Hartmanns  could  she  hope  to  keep 
Vincent  from  taking  the  role  of  Providence  into  his 
own  hands.  And  that  must,  at  all  costs,  be  avoided. 
It  would  not  be  fair  upon  the  girl. 

"But  she  certainly  is  a  beauty,"  said  Minna, 
aloud,  to  the  fireplace;  upon  which  De  Wet,  to 
whose  consciousness  the  familiar  expression  pene- 
trated, wagged  his  thread  of  a  tail  in  his  sleep. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  "MURRICLE" 

THE  cold  lunch  was  on  the  table — in  Irma's  hand 
Gabrielle's  last  letter.  Her  upper  lip  curved  scorn- 
fully as  she  read,  for  among  the  qualities  laid  bare 
by  the  moral  earthquake  of  last  February  was  a 
sort  of  haughty  intolerance  for  anything  that  fell 
short  of  the  highest  standard  of  action.  Nothing 
but  first-class  sentiments  and  acts  could  hope  to 
appeal  to  her  nowadays.  It  was  this  which  had  di- 
vided her  from  her  mother,  and  which,  logically 
speaking,  ought  to  have  divided  her  from  her 
father,  too;  only  that  here  its  force  was  counter- 
acted by  a  very  passion  of  pity — just  as  one  law  of 
nature  is  liable  to  be  paralysed  by  another,  of  which 
the  gruesome  exhibition  known  as  "looping  the 
loop"  furnishes  the  most  telling  object-lesson.  In 
Gabrielle's  case  the  pity  had  not  sufficed  to  paralyse 
the  intolerance,  perhaps  because,  in  spite  of  Mrs. 
Harding's  private  fortune  having  proved  sufficient 
to  ward  off  the  dreaded  necessity  of  active  bread- 
winning,  Gabrielle  pitied  herself  so  persistently. 
Out  of  her  sister's  letters  it  was  not  hard  for  Irma 

127 


128     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

to  evolve  the  pose  adopted  by  her  mother — that  of 
a  social  martyr  whose  life  is  forever  galled  and 
blighted  by  the  chain  which  binds  her  to  a  criminal. 
It  was  she  herself  who  insisted  most  loudly  on  the 
criminality.  It  was  not  in  whitewashing  her  un- 
fortunate husband,  it  was  in  blackening  him  yet 
further,  that  she  saw  a  hope  of  at  least  partial  so- 
cial salvation.  The  more  public  the  repudiation  of 
the  crime  and  the  man,  the  less  chance  did  there 
seem  of  being  identified  with  either.  The  spoiled 
child  of  former  days,  received  back  into  the  bosom 
of  her  forgiving  family,  readily  joined  her  voice  to 
those  who  had  begun  by  saying,  "I  told  you  so!" 

At  the  sound  of  her  father's  ring  Irma  crumpled 
up  the  letter  in  her  hand.  There  were  things  hinted 
at  there  which  she  would  rather  keep  from  the 
bankrupt's  eyes. 

"Papa,  what  is  it?"  she  asked,  with  a  pang  of 
alarm,  for  upon  his  tired  face  fresh  failure  was 
written. 

"Just  the  usual  thing;  another  lesson  gone."  He 
sat  down,  smiling  rather  forlornly. 

"Which  lesson?" 

"The  one  at  Eaton  Place.  It  seems  that  the  two 
young  ladies  have  made  such  marvellous  progress 
under  my  tuition  that  they  are  now  in  the  happy 
position  of  being  able  to  do  without  it.  Thus  Lady 
Aurelia  informed  me  this  morning,  wreathed  in 
smiles — or  in  something  that  was  meant  for  smiles, 
I  suppose,  though  teeth  are  usually  considered  an 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     129 

essential  part  of  the  performance.  It  seems  rather 
difficult  to  hit  off  the  right  medium  with  one's  pu- 
pils, doesn't  it?  If  they  don't  get  on  fast  enough 
you're  told  that  you  have  evidently  not  got  the 
knack,  and  if  they  get  on  too  fast,  then  they  can 
do  without  you.  Result  in  both  cases:  the  sack." 

lie  laughed  as  desolately  as  he  had  smiled,  while 
upon  his  unrestful  face  the  fine  network  of  wrinkles 
played  into  a  succession  of  patterns. 

Irma  kept  her  lips  tight-closed  for  several  mo- 
ments, not  because  she  had  nothing  to  say,  but  be- 
cause she  was  afraid  of  saying  too  much.  She 
thought  she  understood — better  than  her  father 
did.  It  was  not  because  the  Miss  Denholms  were 
getting  on  too  well  with  their  German  that  her 
father  had  to  be  dismissed — it  was  because  he  was 
her  father.  The  scene  which  had  led  to  her  own 
evacuation  of  the  house  in  Eaton  Place  started  up 
again  in  her  memory — not  differing  vitally  in  detail 
from  that  which  Vincent's  knowledge  of  his  grand- 
mother had  helped  him  mentally  to  reconstruct.  It 
had  not  been  a  violent  scene,  but  it  had  admirably 
fulfilled  its  purpose.  Lady  Aurelia  never  wasted 
power,  and  she  had  accurately  measured  the  degree 
of  susceptibility  of  the  object  to  be  operated  upon. 
Where  an  insinuation  sufficed,  why  insult?  When 
a  pin-prick  served,  wherefore  make  a  mess  with  a 
dagger? 

The  day  on  which  Vincent  had  been  obliged  to 
miss  his  lesson  had  furnished  the  welcome  oppor- 


130     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

tunity.  Behind  the  shield  of  a  friendly,  almost 
motherly  warning  touching  the  necessity  of  pru- 
dence for  girls  in  her  position,  it  had  been  quite 
easy  to  plant  the  shaft.  The  ink-stained  dress,  too, 
had  come  in  very  usefully;  since,  obviously,  a  young 
man  might  be  suspected  of  wishing  to  seize  on  the 
pretext  for  a  gift,  which,  in  Fraulein  Hartmann's 
own  interest,  she  would  earnestly  advise  her  not  to 
accept.  A  certain  degree  of  admiration  on  his  side 
was  surmised,  was,  indeed,  pronounced  to  be  un- 
avoidable, considering  the  Fraulein's  looks — which 
Lady  Aurelia  handsomely  acknowledged — but 
since  the  difference  of  station  placed  honourable 
intentions  out  of  the  question,  her  ladyship  consid- 
ered that  she  was  only  doing  her  duty  in  putting 
Fraulein  Hartmann  on  her  guard  against  the  wick- 
edness of  the  world.  No  girl  of  her  culture  would 
like  being  made  a  fool  of — would  she? 

The  result,  perfectly  foreseen,  was  that  Irma, 
having  flung  back  Lady  Aurelia's  advice  in  her 
face,  left  the  house  in  a  rage  against  the  grand- 
mother, which  naturally  embraced  the  grandson, 
and,  having  torn  up  three  notes  in  succession,  at 
last  produced  one  whose  cold  reticence  had  been 
considered  fit  even  for  Vincent's  inspection. 

Accept  his  gifts,  indeed!  What  did  that  hag 
take  her  for  ?  At  every  fresh  reminder  the  tremor 
of  rage  shook  her  anew.  It  came  over  her  again 
now,  as  in  the  latest  development  she  recognised 
the  same  hand.  A  measure  of  prudence,  clearly. 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     131 

So  long  as  her  father  frequented  the  house  the  con- 
nexion could  not  be  considered  finally  severed. 
How  disgusting  the  world  was !  Could  they  never 
let  one  forget  for  a  minute  that  one  was  a  woman 
and  that  there  are  such  things  as  men  in  the  world  ? 

To  her  father,  fearing  to  alarm  him,  she  had 
told  a  cock-and-bull  story  touching  the  cessation  of 
the  Hungarian  lessons;  and  now — for  the  brave 
front  must  be  maintained — she  talked  gaily,  though 
slightly  at  random,  about  the  pressure  of  the  "sea- 
son," which  naturally  reacted  unfavourably  upon 
the  acquisition  of  languages,  and  of  a  new  agency 
which  promised  marvels  in  the  way  of  employment. 
Finally  she  sent  him  off  to  the  one  afternoon  lesson 
that  still  remained  him,  not  quite  so  despondent  as 
he  had  come  in.  So  long  as  he  was  in  the  room  she 
kept  it  up.  Once  alone,  she  sat  down  with  her  face 
in  her  hands,  a  prey  to  one  of  the  rare  fits  of  dis- 
couragement in  which  she  occasionally  indulged. 
Around  her  the  silence  was  broken  only  by  the 
strumming  of  a  wheezy  piano  on  the  first  floor,  and 
by  the  flow  of  Mrs.  Martin's  observations,  which 
had  a  habit  of  rising  chronically  from  the  bowels 
of  the  earth.  The  hum  of  traffic  in  Cromwell  Road 
seemed  like  the  voice  of  a  river  sweeping  past  the 
foot  of  the  deserted  street. 

With  one  leg  jammed  into  the  frame  of  the  dim 
mirror  above  the  mantelpiece,  Vindobona  sprawled 
against  her  own  image.  By  this  time  the  pink  skirt 
had  absorbed  so  much  London  soot  as  to  be  no 


132     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

longer  very  pink,  and,  owing  to  the  frequent  appli- 
cation of  Pattie's  thumb,  the  flat  nose  showed  a 
chronic  smudge ;  but,  for  all  that,  the  little  doll  was 
as  nimble  as  ever — though  to-day  her  antics  were 
unmarked,  overshadowed  by  anxious  thoughts. 

Occupation  had  been  failing  lately,  and  some- 
thing else  had  been  failing,  too,  as  Irma  could  not 
help  seeing — her  father's  health.  Even  to  her  in- 
experienced eyes  he  looked  like  a  man  whose  physi- 
cal power  of  resistance  is  broken  as  well  as  his  men- 
tal. It  would  require  rest,  care,  comfort;  instead 
of  which  he  had  to  tramp  the  streets  in  search  of 
bread.  Oh,  it  was  bitter !  And  probably  it  would 
grow  bitterer  yet.  Want,  which  had  as  yet  kept  at 
a  decent  distance,  seemed  to  be  drawing  indecently 
near.  Already  the  first  illusive  gloss  was  off  the 
novelty  of  the  experiment,  just  as  the  freshness  was 
gone  from  the  relics  of  her  Viennese  wardrobe. 
Even  her  boots  were  all  worn  through  from  much 
treading  of  the  pavement,  and  English  boots  were 
so  terribly  expensive ! 

A  hundred  sordid  details  rose  to  her  mind,  and 
each  detail  added  a  new  sting  to  "the  thought  of 
the  morrow."  One  of  those  panics  was  upon  her 
in  which  she  always  saw  herself  poised  upon  a  high 
rock,  with  an  abyss  at  her  feet.  Instinctively  she 
shut  her  eyes.  Was  there  nothing  to  clutch?  No 
hand  to  steady  herself  by?  Where  find  comfort? 
At  the  new  agency,  perhaps? 

As  she  formed  the  thought  she  got  up.    Yes — 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     133 

she  must  go  to  the  office.     The  mere  thought  of 
giving  up  the  battle  was  ridiculous. 

An  hour  later  she  had  left  the  agency — without 
the  comfort  expected.  The  chances  of  employment 
were  even  smaller,  the  fee  greater,  than  she  had  ex- 
pected, and  the  stare  of  the  young  man  in  charge 
had  been  distinctly  impertinent.  The  sensation  of 
being  a  straw  upon  the  torrent  of  life  had  seldom 
been  so  strong  upon  her — that  sensation  which, 
during  the  first  weeks  of  her  London  life,  had  filled 
her  with  an  unreasoning  terror,  not  of  the  hurrying 
crowds,  but  of  losing  hold  of  her  own  identity.  One 
human  atom  seemed  to  be  so  utterly  irrelevant  to 
the  bulk  of  the  human  monster  filling  the  streets. 
It  appeared  incredible  that  each  should  possess  its 
own  consciousness,  its  own  hopes  and  fears,  and 
joys  and  troubles.  The  terror  was  upon  her  again 
to-day,  perhaps  because  it  was  a  Saturday  crowd, 
that  is  swollen  to  a  Saturday  size  and  in  the  ortho- 
dox Saturday  hurry.  The  red  and  yellow  and  green 
posters  with  the  latest  news  of  the  Russian  fleet's 
progress  towards  its  doom,  which  she  had  seen  that 
morning  laid  out  neatly  upon  the  pavement,  with 
little  mounds  of  dirt  acting  as  paper-weights  upon 
the  corners,  had  long  since  been  stamped  to  rags 
by  horses'  hoofs  and  gone  to  make  bright  the  rub- 
bish-heaps. At  the  street  corners  the  'bus  conduc- 
tors sang  their  siren's  song  as  fervently  as  ever  did 
mermaid  luring  voyagers  to  her  cave — shamelessly 
making  eyes  at  every  likely  looking  old  lady,  until 


i34     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

some  breathless  question  as  to  the  vehicle's  destina- 
tion abruptly  extinguished  all  personal  interest. 

"Light  Blue's  yer  colour,"  would  be  all  the  dis- 
appointed representative  of  Dark  Blue  might  con- 
descend to  utter  before  turning  his  back,  if,  indeed, 
he  condescended  so  far. 

To-day  the  transpiring  tempters'  songs  passed 
unheeded  by  Irma,  since,  alas!  there  was  no  hurry; 
she  might  as  well  spare  her  pennies.  No  pupil 
waited  for  her  anywhere.  With  a  slower  step  than 
usual  she  threaded  her  way  down  Brompton  Road, 
half-dazed  by  the  crowd,  and  yet  only  dimly  aware 
of  it. 

"Only  a  penny,  lidy!" 

Irma  turned  her  head,  to  meet  the  dog-like  gaze 
of  a  woman  in  a  battered  sailor  hat,  with  a  shriv- 
elled baby  in  one  hand  and  a  bunch  of  dusty  boot- 
laces in  the  other.  At  the  same  time  she  became 
aware  of  a  sound  close  enough  to  penetrate  through 
the  rush  of  the  traffic,  and  infinitely  more  soothing. 
She  discovered  that  she  was  straight  in  front  of 
what  she  knew  to  be  the  Brompton  Oratory,  though 
she  had  never  set  foot  within  it.  A  simple  con- 
nexion of  ideas  sent  her  thoughts  straight  to  Pattie, 
for  it  was  Pattie  who  had  told  her  that  benediction 
at  the  Oratory  was  "that  beautiful  you  'ad  to  cry, 
whether  you  wanted  or  no."  And  other  things,  too, 
Pattie  had  told  her,  on  the  day  on  which  she  had 
discovered  the  slavey  transfixed  with  astonishment 
before  the  small  silver  crucifix  which  Irma  had  hung 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     135 

at  the  head  of  her  bed.  The  attitude  resembled 
that  in  which  she  had  been  surprised  before  "Win- 
derboney,"  only  that  here  the  grin  was  replaced  by 
a  deep  gape  of  wonder. 

"Oh,  miss,  is  it  a  fact?     You  are  one  of  us? 
Holy  saints,  what  a  treat!" 

The  face  she  turned  towards  Irma  was  almost 
cut  in  two  by  the  breadth  of  the  grin. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  'one  of  us'?" 

"Why,  a  Roman  Catholic,  to  be  shure! — what 
they  call  a  Papist  in  these  parts.  It's  the  thing 
Mrs.  Martin  always  ends  with  when  she's  used  up 
all  the  other  words.  You  wouldn't  have  that  crooci- 
fix  there  if  you  weren't.  Oh,  the  ghrand  treat  1  the 
ghrand  treat !  I  might  ha'  known  it  by  your  sweet 
looks.  And  shure  Mrs.  Martin  will  'ave  to  'unt 
for  a  new  word  now ;  how  ever  could  she  abuse  me 
for  bein'  what  her  own  lodger  is  ?  Oh,  it's  a  blessed 
thing,  miss,  isn't  it,  to  belong  to  the  blessed 
Church?" 

"Yes,  of  course,"  said  Irma,  a  little  hurriedly. 
Though  she  had  learnt  her  Catechism  all  right  and 
undergone  all  the  indispensable  ceremonies,  she  had 
never  felt  acutely  conscious  of  the  blessing  to  which 
Pattie  referred.  In  the  social  circles  in  which  the 
Hardings  had  moved  the  mention  of  religion  in 
everyday  life  would  have  been  considered  as  inde- 
cent as  its  open  denial.  You  went  to  mass  Sunday 
if  the  weather  was  fine,  partly  because  other  people 
went,  and  partly  as  a  tacit  protest  against  growing 


136     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

Socialism.  Otherwise  you  left  those  things  in  a 
respectful  seclusion.  Even  the  silver  crucifix — the 
orthodox  offering  of  every  Austrian  mother  to  her 
daughter  on  the  occasion  of  her  first  communion — 
owed  to  a  vaguely  sentimental  value  the  fact  of 
being  there  at  all.  It  required  Pattie's  unexpected 
delight  to  make  Irma  even  very  clearly  aware  of 
its  presence  in  her  room.  It  was  then  that  Pattie 
had  begun  to  gush  about  the  Oratory,  and  in  a  burst 
of  confidence  had  pulled  out  from  below  her  dress 
a  piece  of  twine  upon  which  were  suspended  about 
half  a  dozen  medals  of  different  sizes  and  various 
metallic  compositions.  Ere  this  Irma  had  won- 
dered what  it  was  that  jingled  so  about  Pattie;  now 
she  considered  the  mystery  penetrated. 

"If  it  wasn't  for  these,"  Pattie  told  her,  "I'd 
never  get  through  the  day  at  all.  Here's  St. 
Florian — the  one  against  fire,  you  know.  It's  he 
who  don't  let  the  linen  get  singed  when  it's  hung 
to  dry.  And  here's  the  blessed  St.  Anthony,  who 
helps  me  to  find  the  things  I've  lost;  and " 

"And  is  there  no  saint  to  mend  those  you  have 
broken?"  asked  Irma,  not  sorry  for  the  opportunity 
of  airing  a  little  irony — a  wasted  effort,  needless 
to  say. 

"It  would  need  a  murricle  to  do  that,  miss,  you 
know,"  said  Pattie,  with  the  sincerest  of  sighs. 
"And  Father  O'Donovan  says  the  time  for  murri- 
cles  is  past.  But  they  do  kind  o'  shove  you  up, 
somehow.  And  when  things  are  worse  than  usual 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     137 

— such  as  when  I  broke  the  washing-basin  in  the 
best  bedroom — and  the  medals  don't  seem  enough, 
I  take  a  dose  of  the  organ  at  the  Moratory  first  time 
I've  the  chance.  It  do  drive  all  Mrs.  Martin's 
words  clean  out  of  my  head,  it  do.  And  that  stuff 
they  burn  at  benediction  makes  me  feel  so  wunner- 
ful  good,  with  its  holy  smell.  I'd  like  to  keep 
enough  of  it  to  last  me  the  week;  and  I  keep  sniffin' 
it  up  until  I'm  bound  the  peiple  beside  me  must 
think  I've  a  cold  in  the  head." 

At  the  recollection  the  teeth  reappeared  in  full 
force. 

It  was  this  that  came  back  to  Irma  when  the 
woman  with  the  baby  roused  her  from  her  ab- 
straction. 

"Makes  you  cry,  whether  you  want  to  or  no." 
On  the  whole,  Irma  would  rather  like  to  cry.  It 
would  at  least  be  a  change  from  the  chronic  gulping 
down  of  unpleasant  emotions.  Things  were  un- 
doubtedly "worse  than  usual."  Should  she  try 
Pattie's  remedy?  After  a  moment's  irresolution 
she  turned  quickly  towards  the  steps. 

The  tears  promised  by  Pattie  did  not  come,  held 
back,  perhaps,  by  the  sense  of  publicity;  but  some- 
thing else  came  instead — a  gradual  and  yet  swift 
appeasement,  which  descended  upon  her  spirit,  with- 
out reasoning  and  without  apparent  reason,  as  a 
calm  once  fell  upon  the  lake  of  Genesareth  at  the 
voice  of  One  who  bade  the  elements  be  still.  As 
she  knelt  among  the  crowd,  with  the  strains  of 


138     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

Tantum  Ergo  rolling  past  her  ears,  forming  no 
articulate  prayer,  for  none  would  come  to  the  un- 
practised lips,  Irma  knew  of  no  ground  why  the 
future  should  look  less  black  than  five  minutes  ago; 
she  knew  only  that  all  these  people  about  her  had 
come  to  seek  what  she  was  seeking,  and  that,  in  the 
sense  of  community,  a  little  of  the  weight  had  been 
lifted.  Perhaps,  after  all,  there  was  something  to 
clutch  at.  These  worshippers  seemed  to  think  so, 
at  any  rate.  It  was  all  very  illogical,  of  course,  and 
the  merest  tyro  in  the  school  of  modern  thought 
could  have  told  her  that  this  was  but  a  natural  effect 
upon  her  senses  of  music  and  lighted  candles;  but, 
for  all  that,  it  was  comforting.  Here,  where  Pattie 
had  so  often  laid  in  her  fresh  store  of  courage  and 
of  the  "holy  smell,"  Irma,  too,  groped  blindly  for 
courage.  It  would  be  something  to  have  Pattie's 
courage,  beside  which  her  own  seemed  to  herself 
to  shrink  into  insignificance.  She  had  at  least  the 
consciousness  of  a  high  duty  performed,  the  rapture 
of  a  sacrifice — but  what  had  Pattie  if  she  had  not 
this?  "A  mother,  miss?"  she  had  once  said,  in  an- 
swer to  a  question  of  Irma's.  "Yes,  I  suppose  I 
'ad  a  mother,  same  as  other  people,  but  I  don't 
rightly  rec'lect  any  one  ever  belongin'  to  me."  It 
was  conceivable  that  that  rough,  red  hand  might 
require  something  very  visible,  very  tangible,  to 
clutch  at.  In  this  light,  even  the  bunch  of  jingling 
medals  became  a  trifle  less  ludicrous.  Undoubtedly 
Pattie  had  a  worse  time  of  it  than  she  had.  And 


139 

so  probably  had  that  woman  outside  with  the  baby, 
to  whom  she  now  remembered  with  a  pang  that 
she  had  given  nothing.  Would  she  be  there  still? 
she  asked  herself  anxiously;  and  when,  a  few  min- 
utes later  she  found  her  at  her  post,  rejoiced  with 
a  pleasure  that  seemed  quite  out  of  proportion  with 
the  cause.  The  wearer  of  the  sailor  hat  got  more 
than  merely  the  pennies  saved  from  the  'bus,  and 
got  it,  too,  without  any  diminishment  of  her  stock 
in  trade;  for,  after  one  glance  at  the  bootlaces,  Irma 
decided  that,  after  all,  she  had  not  sunk  quite  so 
low  as  that  yet. 

"I  wonder  if  It  has  never  occurred  to  her  to 
strangle  the  baby  with  the  bootlaces?"  Irma  mused, 
as  she  pursued  her  homeward  way,  with  the  image 
of  the  horrible  little  withered  face  dancing  before 
her  mind's  eye.  "At  first  sight  it  would  seem  the 
most  appropriate  use  to  put  them  to." 

And  then  she  remembered  the  mother's  eyes,  and 
wondered  how  many  things  it  had  taken  to  give 
them  that  dog-like  look.  And  so  it  happened  that 
she  went  home  thinking  not  exclusively  of  her  own 
difficulties. 

Upon  the  table  there  lay  a  letter  which  the  four 
o'clock  post  had  brought.  In  a  large,  legible  hand 
she  was  informed  that  Miss  Bennett  would  be  much 
pleased  if  Fraulein  Hartmann  would  appoint  an 
hour  at  which  it  would  be  convenient  for  her  to 
call,  in  order  to  settle  about  some  German  lessons 
which  Miss  Bennett  wished  to  take. 


140     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

Irma  read  the  note  twice  over,  and  then  burst 
out  laughing,  a  little  excitedly.  It  almost  looked, 
didn't  it,  as  if  one  of  those  "murricles,"  which  even 
Pattie  admitted  to  be  out  of  date,  had  actually  come 
to  pass  ? 

"But  who  the  dickens  is  Miss  Bennett?"  thought 
Irma,  "and  how  the  dickens  is  she  aware  of  my 
existence?" 


CHAPTER  VII 
THE  "OUTING." 
'MlNNA,  I've  just  looked  in,  in  order  to- 


Barely  within  the  doorway  he  stood  still,  doubting 
the  testimony  of  his  eyes. 

Meanwhile,  from  beside  a  table  covered  with 
books  and  with  writing  apparatus,  Miss  Bennett 
rose,  a  little  hurriedly. 

"Ah,  it's  you,  Vincent?  How  stupid  of  Wilson 
not  to  turn  you  off !  I  told  her  to  leave  us  undis- 
turbed during  the  lessons.  You  know  Fraulein 
Hartmann,  of  course ;  she  is  helping  me  to  work  up 
my  German.  The  rust  is  ever  so  much  thicker 
upon  it  than  I  imagined." 

The  variation  from  Minna's  usual  placidity 
amounted — for  her — almost  to  flurry. 

"I  am  delighted  to  hear  it,"  said  Vincent,  accom- 
plishing a  bow ;  though  whether  the  delight  applied 
to  the  rust  or  to  the  removal  of  it  was  not  made 
evident. 

The  bow  was  returned — from  an  almost  arctic 
distance;  and  then  Irma,  wondering  whether  he  had 
noted  and  drawn  any  false  conclusions  from  her 

141 


i42     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

first  flush  of  pure  astonishment,  began  to  gather  to- 
gether the  books. 

"It  is  scarcely  worth  while  beginning  a  new  dic- 
tation to-day,  is  it,  Miss  Bennett?" 

Minna's  answer  was  rather  eager :  "No,  I  think 
not.  You  would  like  to  be  released,  I  am  sure.  I 
shall  expect  you  on  Monday." 

Irma  half  got  into  one  of  her  gloves,  and  then 
looked  about  for  her  parasol. 

"I  will  hold  it  for  you  while  you  put  on  your 
gloves,  if  you  will  allow  me,"  said  Vincent,  dex- 
terously possessing  himself  of  the  article.  But  the 
demand  in  the  gesture  of  her  outstretched  hand  only 
became  more  imperative. 

"Thank  you — I  will  put  them  on  as  I  go  down." 
She  had  almost  reached  the  door,  when  he  said, 
with  a  fair  though  spasmodic  imitation  of  jocu- 
larity : 

"You  haven't  told  me  yet  how  you  are  satisfied 
with  your  pupil?" 

"Which  pupil?" 

"Miss  Bennett.  She  is  my  cousin,  you  know,  so, 
of  course,  I  feel  responsible  for  her  progress." 

"No,  I  didn't  know,"  said  Irma,  and,  making 
some  prim  little  remark  about  "suitable  improve- 
ment," she  went  out. 

When  Vincent  turned  back  he  found  Minna 
looking  at  him  with  recovered  composure  and  some 
symptoms  of  severity  about  the  set  of  her  mouth. 

"Now,  Vincent,  please  let  it  be  clearly  understood 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     143 

that  this  is  the  last  time  you  walk  in  upon  my  Ger- 
man lesson." 

"How  can  I  help  walking  in  upon  it  when  you 
operate  in  this  underground  fashion?  Did  I  as 
much  as  know  that  you  were  having  German  les- 
sons?" 

Vincent,  looking  utterly  unsnubbed,  had  settled 
himself  comfortably  in  a  chair.  That  his  humour 
had  by  no  means  suffered  from  the  reproof  could  be 
inferred  from  the  fact  that  unsolicited — though  as 
gingerly  as  though  he  were  handling  a  new-laid  egg 
— he  lifted  De  Wet  to  his  knee. 

"So  ignorant  was  I  of  your  movements  that  I 
turned  in  here  with  the  express  purpose  of  inquir- 
ing whether  you  had  found  any  pupils  for  Fraulein 
Hartmann." 

"It  was  because  at  this  dissipated  season  I 
couldn't  find  any  that  I  sacrificed  myself,  though 
you  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  I  have  about  as  much 
use  for  German  as  for  air-balloons.  I'm  not  des- 
tined for  diplomacy,  you  know.  It  was  your  de- 
scription of  the  forlorn  pair  of  foreigners  which 
pushed  me  to  do  it;  so  the  least  you  could  do  would 
be  to  let  me  get  as  much  of  my  money's  worth  out  of 
the  lessons  as  my  anti-linguistic  talents  permit  of." 

"Minna,  you're  a  brick!"  was  all  that  Vincent 
observed,  as  he  very  gently  stroked  the  toy-terrier's 
ears. 

"If  by  that  you  mean  that  I'm  more  blindly  trust- 
ful in  human  nature  than  granny  is,  then  you're 


144    POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

mistaken.  Good-looking  girls  having  to  earn  their 
own  bread  have  quite  enough  to  cope  with  without 
their  ideas  being  unsettled  by  unnecessary  notice. 
And  this  girl  is  more  than  merely  good-looking. 
Why,  I  believe" — and  Minna  relaxed  a  little — 
"that  since  she  comes  here  De  Wet's  nose  has  been 
distinctly  out  of  joint.  If  there  were  beauty-shows, 
instead  of  only  dog-shows — but  never  mind  that. 
There's  another  point:  The  girl  is  not  only  good- 
looking,  she  is  also  good." 

The  straight  look  she  gave  him  was  one  of  those 
defensive  looks — not  of  her  person,  but  of  her  sex 
— with  which  even  the  plainest  woman  arms  herself 
at  moments. 

"I  know  she  is,"  Vincent  said,  with  a  note  al- 
most of  gratitude  in  his  voice.  And  he  knew  it,  too. 
How?  Let  any  young  man  who  has  sat  opposite 
to  a  girl  half  a  dozen  times  with  only  a  table  be- 
tween them  answer  the  question.  Any  one  short 
of  an  idiot — or  possibly  a  saint — will  within  that 
space — and  be  it  under  the  eyes  of  ten  watchful 
chaperones — have  formed  a  probably  correct  idea 
as  to  the  moral  value  of  the  girl. 

"For  which  reason,"  summed  up  Minna,  with  a 
return  to  her  judicial  manner,  "I  shall  expect  you 
to  shun  my  door  between  four  and  five  on  Fridays." 

"And  Mondays,"  completed  Vincent,  but  not 
aloud,  and  with  a  gaiety  of  heart  which  the  pro- 
hibition had  entirely  failed  to  damp. 

"All  right,  Minna;  I'm  not  dreaming  of  unset- 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     145 

tling  any  one's  ideas.  But  it's  a  comfort  to  think 
that — that  the  old  father  is  not  in  any  want.  I  ran 
against  him  once  in  Eaton  Place — looks  awfully 
ill  and  stricken,  somehow.  Seems  to  be  walked  off 
his  legs,  too.  They  live  miles  off,  I  suppose?" 

"Somewhere  beyond  Brompton,"  said  Minna, 
not  considering  it  a  case  for  precision. 

"That  means  a  cut  through  the  Park,"  ran  on 
the  inner  monologue.  Indeed,  considering  the  re- 
spective positions  of  Fortague  Street  and  Brompton 
Road,  that  cut  seemed  unavoidable. 

Upon  Minna's  face  as  she  tidied  up  the  copy- 
books there  lingered  a  slight  frown.  It  had  not 
been  necessary  to  tell  Vincent  that  compassion  for 
the  foreigners  had  not  been  the  only  motive  of  her 
action.  Neither  did  she  wish  to  betray  that  curios- 
ity, being  satisfied,  had  given  way  to  a  personal 
interest  which  strengthened  with  each  new  meeting. 
Already  she  was  beginning  to  understand  that  it 
might  be  difficult  for  any  young  man — even  such 
a  young  man  as  was  Vincent — to  shake  off  an  im- 
pression received  from  this  vivid  and  strong  indi- 
viduality. The  recognition  could  not  but  increase 
a  certain  uneasiness  of  conscience.  A  slightly  guilty 
feeling  towards  the  family  in  general  shadowed 
her.  Prudence,  indeed,  seemed  to  point  out  a  quick 
severing  of  the  connexion,  a  vanishing  back  of  the 
disturbing  atom  into  the  whirlpool  of  London  as 
the  only  absolutely  safe  course.  But  exactly  in 
measure  as  she  recognised  the  danger  grew  her  de- 


146     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

sire  for  further  exploration  of  the  atom  which  had 
achieved  what  so  many  much  more  "desirable" 
atoms  had  failed  to  achieve.  Lady  Aurelia,  as  it 
was,  had  raised  her  eyebrows  to  invisible  heights 
over  Minna's  German  lessons — but  Minna  was  the 
one  member  of  the  family  whom  she  had  never 
been  able  to  control. 

Meanwhile,  Irma,  with  a  slight  upward  tilt  of 
her  chin,  was  pursuing  exactly  the  way  surmised  by 
Vincent.  Twice  a  week,  lately,  her  homeward  road 
had  afforded  her  glimpses  of  the  season's  glories,  in 
the  shape  of  smoothly  rolling  carriages,  of  flashing 
harness,  of  hats  and  frocks,  at  which  her  eyes  gazed 
as  might  those  of  Peri  at  the  lost  Paradise. 

To-day  she  did  not  see  these  things.  The  sur- 
prise of  Vincent's  appearance  was  still  upon  her. 
Though  having  recognised  Miss  Bennett  as  the 
lady  visitor  seen  once  at  Eaton  Place,  the  relation- 
ship was  a  revelation,  and  awoke  certain  reflections 
not  unrelated  to  misgivings.  Those  "intentions" 
so  insultingly  hinted  at  by  Lady  Aurelia  might, 
after  all,  not  be  a  mere  hallucination  of  her  senile 
brain.  It  was  this  thought  which  had  stiffened  her 
in  Vincent's  presence,  and  it  was  this  which  had 
tilted  up  her  chin  and  lit  a  warlike  spark  in  the 
shadow  of  her  eyes.  Make  a  fool  of  her,  indeed ! 
Let  him  just  try!  His  intrusion  to-day,  and  the 
well-simulated  surprise,  was  the  first  move  in  the 
game,  no  doubt,  and  the  next  would  be  an  "acci- 
dental" meeting.  Who  knows  whether  he  was  not 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     147 

following  her  already?  Irma's  ears  strained  ner- 
vously for  every  step  in  the  rear  which  bore  any 
suspicion  of  hurry.  When  she  found  herself  at  the 
other  side  of  the  park,  unmolested,  she  fetched  a 
deep  breath,  and,  but  that  dignity  forbade,  would 
have  dearly  loved  to  cast  a  glance  backwards,  for 
pure  curiosity's  sake. 

Friday's  lesson — to  which  she  could  not  but  look 
forward  with  a  certain  trepidation  and  with  doubts 
which  cast  their  shadow  even  upon  that  nice,  kind 
Miss  Bennett — passed  with  a  reassuring  eventless- 
ness.  But  this  time  on  the  homeward  way  a  start 
was  not  spared  her,  for,  half-way  along  the  walk 
she  followed,  her  eyes  picked  out  from  among  the 
advancing  group  a  single,  frock-coated  figure  which 
she  knew,  and  approaching  at  a  pace  which  denoted 
leisure. 

"Now  it  is  going  to  begin !"  she  said  to  herself, 
while  some  little  imp  of  excitement  leaped  to  her 
throat,  and  instinctively  she  locked  her  teeth  and 
took  a  firmer  grip  of  her  parasol  handle,  as  though 
of  a  weapon.  It  was  only  after  their  ways  had 
crossed — with  a  good  three  feet  between — that  both 
her  fingers  and  her  teeth  relaxed.  Beyond  a  quickly 
inquiring  glance  in  her  direction  nothing  had  hap- 
pened, not  even  a  conventional  elevation  of  his  hat 
— a  neglect  which  struck  her  as  offensive  to  mere 
civility  until — several  paces  beyond  the  spot  of 
meeting — it  flashed  upon  her  that  this  was  not 
Vienna,  and  that  the  initiative  of  recognition  had 


i48     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

lain  with  her.  She  gave  an  irritated  little  bite  to 
her  lip.  "I  do  wish  they  would  have  one  rule  for 
bowing  in  all  countries,"  her  angry  thought  ran. 
There  was  no  object,  of  course,  in  direct  rudeness, 
and  might  give  the  ridiculous  impression  that  she 
was  afraid.  Well,  she  would  make  up  for  it  next 
time — if  there  was  a  next  time.  Scarcely  likely 
that  their  paths  should  cross  again. 

When  the  unlikely  thing  came  to  pass,  which  it 
did,  not  on  the  occasion  of  the  next,  but  of  the  next 
but  one  lesson  in  Fortague  Street,  Irma  marshalled 
all  her  social  powers  with  the  object  of  producing 
a  bow  which  should  satisfy  civility,  while  absolutely 
discouraging  approach.  It  was  a  question  for  very 
nice  balancing,  and,  if  the  truth  must  be  told,  the 
critical  blend  had  been  practised  at  various  odd  mo- 
ments before  that  same  dim  mirror  in  which  "Vin- 
dobona"  had  been  steadily  admiring  her  charms  for 
three  weeks  past.  "Politely  forbidding"  was  the 
combination  she  aimed  at.  When  the  moment  came 
it  turned  out  more  forbidding  than  polite;  and, 
whether  for  this  or  for  any  other  reason,  there  were 
no  signs  of  approach  either  on  this  or  on  any  other 
of  the  occasions  on  which,  in  her  bihebdomadal 
crossings  of  the  park,  the  unavoidable  salutation 
was  exchanged.  No  more  than  the  orthodox 
straight  uplifting  of  the  faultless  hat,  with  scarce 
so  much  as  a  quick  turn  of  the  eyes  in  her  direction. 
After  the  third  or  fourth  repetition  of  the  perform- 
ance Irma  began  to  laugh  at  herself.  Here  she  was 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     149 

going  about  armed  to  the  teeth  against  the  possible 
"intentions"  of  a  person  who  very  evidently  had 
no  intentions  at  all,  and  who,  plunged  as  he,  of 
course,  was  in  the  vortex  of  London  society,  had 
probably  only  the  vaguest  consciousness  of  her  exist- 
ence. There  was  a  note  of  irritation  in  her  laugh; 
and  no  wonder,  since  she  was  feeling  mildly  ridicu- 
lous. It  was  all  that  yellow-faced  old  woman's 
fault  for  striking  a  false  alarm.  Even  in  these 
chance  encounters  she  would  doubtless  find  fresh 
fuel  for  suspicion.  Were  they  actually  pure  chance? 
The  question  would  occasionally  obtrude,  only  to 
be  pushed  aside.  What  could  it  matter,  since,  clear- 
ly, the  diplomat  was  triumphantly  innocent  of  any 
desire  of  "making  a  fool"  of  her?  So  much  the 
better! — ah,  yes,  of  course — ever  so  much  the 
better. 

By  the  time  Irma  had  reached  this  eminently  sat- 
isfactory conclusion  summer  was  advancing,  the 
pavement  growing  hotter  and  the  'buses  stuffier 
than  ever.  The  longing  for  green  spaces  and  that 
mountain  air  which  she  had  never  missed  at  this 
season  tugged  uselessly  at  the  girl.  A  change — a 
little  change — any  sort  of  change !  her  youth  mut- 
tered rebelliously  under  the  dusty  daily  round. 

The  change  tarried;  yet  one  Saturday  evening 
there  came  a  slight  surprise  in  the  shape  of  a  note 
addressed  in  a  round,  childish  hand,  vaguely 
familiar. 


1 50     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

"DEAR  FREILEIN, 

"Uncle  says  that  praps  yood  like  to  see  the  beasts 
at  the  Zoo  and  Sundays  the  best  day  because  of  not 
beeing  so  big  a  crowd.  So  here  is  the  order  sined 
becase  you  cant  get  in  Sundays  without  a  director 
says  so. 

"Your  affecshonat  pupil, 

"ToM  POTTS." 

"Just  fancy  that !" 

In  the  height  of  her  astonishment  Irma  said  it 
aloud. 

Tom  Potts  was  the  same  small  boy  the  cessation 
of  whose  lessons  had  been  the  first  blow  descended 
in  Spring,  and  "Uncle"  was,  of  course,  the  indi- 
vidual who  had  been  the  cause  of  this  cessation.  To 
the  grudge  she  felt  against  him  he  owed  the  only 
place  he  had  ever  occupied  in  Irma's  memory.  But 
in  face  of  the  piece  of  paper  signed  "Joseph  Potts" 
the  grudge  showed  signs  of  melting.  An  expiation  ? 
Perhaps.  It  really  was  rather  kind  of  him  to  have 
thought  of  the  Zoo — all  the  kinder  as  he,  too,  dur- 
ing all  these  months,  had  shown  no  further  signs  of 
an  unwelcome  approach.  Another  false  alarm.  And 
the  employment  of  his  nephew  as  a  secretary 
showed  a  tact  with  which  she  would  not  have  cred- 
ited him.  Sunday  ?  Why,  to-morrow  was  Sunday, 
and  the  weather  promised  well.  Already  the  weari- 
ness of  the  long,  hot  afternoon  was  wiped  from 
Irma's  face.  At  the  mere  prospect  of  such  a  thing 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     151 

as  an  "outing"  her  eighteen  years  had  reasserted 
themselves.  After  months  of  drudgery  even  the 
Zoo  bore  a  promise  of  dissipation  to  which  in  old 
days  a  ball  had  scarcely  reached.  Her  first  bit  of 
London  sight-seeing — of  London  of  which  she 
knew  a  few  streets  by  heart,  and  of  the  rest  as  much 
as  of  the  care  of  the  African  continent.  Her  father? 
Surely  he  would  not  object.  The  Zoo  on  Sunday 
was  scarcely  to  be  accounted  one  of  those  public 
places  which  he  naturally  shunned.  And  the  change 
would  be  as  good  as  a  tonic  to  him — she  was  sure  of 
that.  If  any  question  rose  in  Irma's  mind  as  to  the 
perfect  wisdom  of  accepting  Mr.  Potts's  offer  it 
never  became  articulate,  strangled  at  birth  by  the 
craving  for  that  "outing"  which  she  was  conscious 
of  having  richly  deserved. 

When,  therefore,  Mr.  Harding  came  home  it 
was  not  to  have  his  advice  asked,  but  to  be  con- 
fronted by  a  fait  accompli,  Pattie  having  run  to  the 
pillar-post  at  the  corner  with  the  note  of  acceptance, 
in  time  for  the  last  post. 

"We've  both  of  us  worked  hard  enough  to  de- 
serve a  treat,  papa,  don't  you  think?"  Irma  argued. 
"We'll  see  the  lions  fed,  and  we'll  keep  our  crusts 
from  supper  for  the  monkeys — or  perhaps  they'd 
prefer  nuts  ?  You  will  like  to  go,  papa,  won't  you  ? 
It's  in  a  beautiful  park,  you  know,  and  perhaps 
we'll  see  real  green  trees  again  there." 

"I  like  everything  that  my  Antigone  likes,"  said 
Harding,  smiling  his  unquiet  smile.  His  own  in- 


i5 2     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

stinct  would  have  led  him  to  keep  in  the  shadows; 
but  the  first  terror  of  discovery  had  long  since  worn 
off,  and  the  sight  of  Irma's  radiant  face  was  de- 
cisive. It  was  not  much  of  an  opportunity  for  pay- 
ing off  the  tiniest  installment  of  that  debt  of  grati- 
tude incurred  towards  his  own  child,  and  whose 
weight  was  not  the  least  of  his  trials,  but  such  as  it 

was  he  took  it. 

******* 

"Fraulem!" 

Irma  was  standing  in  front  of  a  cage  containing 
a  bored-looking  baboon,  whose  interest  she  was 
vainly  endeavouring  to  arouse  in  the  walnut  in  her 
hand,  when,  amidst  the  human  and  semi-human 
chattering  around  her,  the  address  met  her  ear,  or, 
rather,  rose  to  it,  from  a  considerably  lower  level. 

Until  this  moment  all  had  gone  splendidly.  There 
had  been  no  difficulty  about  the  'bus,  no  hitch  about 
the  admission ;  a  shower  in  the  night  had  laid  the 
dust;  the  bears  in  the  pit  had  climbed  just  at  the 
right  moment;  the  most  exotic  birds  had  left  their 
dark  corners  to  prune  their  brilliant  feathers  in  the 
welcome  sunshine;  the  elephants  had  been  conde- 
scending, and  even  the  boa-constrictors  had  exerted 
themselves  sufficiently  to  convince  Irma  that  they 
were  not  stuffed  specimens.  So  far  her  "treat"  had 
gone  without  a  blemish.  But  now 

The  bright  face  on  which  the  unmixed  enjoyment 
was  so  plainly  written  turned  towards  the  speaker, 
and  became,  as  a  first  result,  frankly  astonished. 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     153 

"Oh,  Tom — you  here?    With  whom " 

But  there  was  no  need  to  complete  the  question, 
since  close  behind  Tom,  who,  indeed,  appeared  to 
have  been  put  forward  in  the  guise  of  a  social 
buckler,  stood  Mr.  Joseph  Potts  in  person,  with  a 
curve  of  his  rosy  lips  which  waited  only  for  the  sig- 
nal of  recognition  to  become  a  smile,  and  a  well- 
gloved  hand  half-way  towards  his  shining  hat. 

"I  am  so  thankful  to  you  for  having  made  use 
of  the  order,"  he  murmured,  as  he  carefully  uncov- 
ered his  flaxen  head. 

"Oh,  I  see!"  Irma  said  it  with  a  certain  blank- 
ness.  "Yes,  it  was  very  kind  of  you.  This  is  Mr. 
Potts,  papa,  whom  I  think  you  don't  know." 

Having  spoken,  she  gave  one  of  those  little,  fierce 
bites  into  her  underlip  which  were  the  habitual  out- 
lets to  angry  emotions.  Abruptly  the  glory  of  her 
Sunday  afternoon  was  extinguished,  and  extin- 
guished in  mockery,  too,  since  she  had  the  very  dis- 
tinct sensation  of  having  walked  into  a  trap.  Almost 
she  could  have  slapped  her  own  face  for  her  stu- 
pidity. Kindness  and  good  nature,  indeed,  when 
nothing  but  the  most  crying  inexperience  could 
excuse  her  for  not  having  recognised  in  the  Sunday 
order  the  assignment  for  a  rendezvous!  If  any 
doubt  on  the  subject  remained,  the  look  in  the  motor 
manufacturer's  eyes  would  have  made  short  work 
of  it.  They  were  remarkably  round  eyes;  and, 
whatever  might  be  the  case  in  business  hours,  at  this 
moment  they  were  melting  in  the  most  unbusiness- 


154 

like  fashion,  almost  to  the  liquidity  of  the  typical 
baby's  eyes.  Not  unlike  a  magnified  baby,  in  fact, 
was  the  junior  partner  of  the  firm  of  Potts  Brothers 
and  Co.,  being  plump  and  chubby,  with  round,  rosy 
cheeks,  thickly  set  with  dimples,  and  shining,  ap- 
parently, from  the  recent  application  of  soap.  A 
giant  baby  fresh  from  its  bath,  and  miraculously 
furnished  with  all  its  teeth.  Beside  him  the  seven- 
year-old  Tom,  though  chubby,  too,  looked  quite 
elderly;  for  Tom  copied  his  father  and  not  his 
uncle,  which  resulted  in  measured  movements  and 
a  solemnity  beyond  words,  as  befitted  a  small  per- 
son on  whom  it  had  been  early  impressed  that  his 
one  business  in  this  world,  for  which  he  could  not 
too  soon  prepare,  was  the  making  of  money.  When 
seen  beside  his  father  he  could  be  taken  for  a  minia- 
ture model  of  the  full- sized  article,  one  of  those 
costly  mechanical  toys,  perhaps,  constructed  for 
modern  children — while  the  round-eyed  uncle  might 
stand  for  the  very  child  that  would  delight  in  the 
toy. 

"We  have  been  through  all  the  houses,  positively 
through  all  the  houses,"  he  explained  smilingly  to 
Irma,  who  had  chucked  the  nut  into  the  baboon's 
cage,  there  to  take  its  chance. 

"No  doubt  Tom  enjoyed  the  animals,"  she  said, 
as  loftily  as  though  she  herself  were  quite  above 
any  such  enjoyment. 

"It  was  not  the  animals  we  were  after."  The 
significance  of  the  accent  was  so  unmistakable  that 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     155 

Irma  felt  positively  grateful  to  her  small  ex-pupil 
for  breaking  in  just  then  with  a  serious  warning. 

"Uncle,  there  is  only  five  minutes'  time  till  the 
sea-lions  are  fed." 

"Yes,  let  us  go  to  the  sea-lions,"  decided  Irma, 
weakly. 

An  attempt  made  at  the  exit  from  the  monkey- 
house  to  draw  Tom's  hand  through  her  arm  proved 
a  failure.  The  ease  with  which  he  paired  off  with 
her  father  seemed  to  point  to  previous  instructions. 
Evidently  it  was  not  as  secretary  alone  that  the 
miniature  business  man  had  his  uses. 

As  beside  Potts,  junior,  Irma  walked  towards  the 
sea-lions'  pond,  she  began  to  wonder  whether  Potts, 
senior,  was  aware  of  his  son  and  heir's  epistolary 
performance,  and  whether  he  would  get  a  full 
account  of  the  visit  to  the  Zoo.  The  scent  of  brib- 
ery and  corruption  seemed  to  her  all  the  more  ripe 
in  the  air,  as  a  good  part  of  the  walk  to  the  pond 
was  occupied  by  an  explanation,  concerning  a  Conti- 
nental business  journey  from  which  Mr.  Joseph 
Potts  had  only  just  returned,  and  the  insinuation 
that  but  for  this  circumstance  she  would  certainly 
have  heard  from  him  ere  this. 

"I  don't  believe  there's  only  one  sea-lion,"  ob- 
served Tom,  having  for  several  minutes  intensely 
and  unsmilingly  watched  the  manoeuvres  of  the  agile 
monster,  reappearing  with  magical  rapidity  upon 
the  stone  edge  of  the  basin  from  each  header  after 
the  flashes  of  silver  which  started  from  the  big 


156     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

basket  on  the  keeper's  arm.  "I  think  there  are  two. 
He  wouldn't  come  back  so  quickly." 

"With  enough  horse-power,  why  not?"  mused 
Mr.  Potts.  "Talking  of  horse-power,  Fraulein 
Hartmann,"  and  his  round  eyes  came  back  from 
the  stormily  disturbed  pond  to  Irma's  face,  "do  you 
know  that  we  have  just  turned  out  an  improved 
'Cerberus,'  with  sixty-four  power,  with  which  we 
expect  to  knock  the  Frenchmen  out  of  the  field? 
You  didn't  know.  Ah,  perhaps  you  don't  read  the 
Motor  News?" 

"I  didn't  know  there  existed  a  Motor  News," 
said  Irma,  a  trifle  crossly,  for  her  spoiled  holiday 
rankled,  "and  if  I  ever  make  a  nearer  acquaintance 
with  motors  it  will  probably  be  by  being  run  over 
by  one." 

His  round  eyes  became  two  globes  of  wonder. 

"Is  it  possible?  You  have  never  been  inside  a 
car?"  He  was  staring  at  her  as  at  a  natural  phe- 
nomenon and,  at  the  same  time,  a  person  worthy  of 
the  deepest  compassion.  "We  came  along  at  a 
splendid  pace  to-day.  Oh,  if  you  would  permit 
me " 

"Uncle,  it  is  time  for  the  real  lions  now,"  broke 
in  Tom's  grave  treble,  after  consultation  with  a 
gold  repeater  which  need  not  have  disgraced  the 
broadest  city  waistcoat.  Yet,  though  obviously  de- 
termined upon  sound  business  principles,  to  get  the 
full  benefit  of  his  afternoon,  the  mannikin's 
thoughts,  even  on  the  road  to  the  "real  lions,"  were 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     157 

still  at  work  upon  the  problem  of  the  ubiquitous 
sea  monster. 

"I  don't  believe  there's  only  one,"  he  confided  to 
Mr.  Harding,  even  while  pressing  towards  the  spot 
to  which  the  hollow  thunder  of  hungry  roars  guided 
them  easily. 

Before  the  lions'  summer  quarters,  jutting  out 
peninsula  fashion  from  the  main  building,  and 
therefore  accessible  on  three  sides,  the  compara- 
tively select  Sunday  public,  hailing  largely  from 
the  nursery,  was  pretty  fully  assembled.  A  fearful 
and  delightful  expectancy  lay  upon  many  of  the 
juvenile  faces  making  a  ring  round  that  caged  ter- 
ror, while  at  the  shock  of  each  fresh  roar  some  small 
hand  would  unconsciously  grasp  tighter  a  fold  of 
the  maternal  skirt  or  the  paternal  coat. 

"There  is  room  here,"  said  Mr.  Potts,  guiding 
Irma  to  the  least  encumbered  side,  "unless  you  mind 
the  smell,"  for  even  here  in  the  open  the  rank  wild 
beast  odour  filled  the  nostrils  unpleasantly. 

"I  don't  mind  it  for  a  few  minutes.  Papa,  do 
you?  Tom,  stay  beside  me,"  she  said  imperiously, 
possessing  herself  of  the  small  hand,  by  way  of 
a  safety  measure.  Why  should  not  Tom  come  in 
useful  to  her,  too,  as  well  as  to  his  uncle?  "Oh, 
how  horribly  yellow  his  eyes  arel  And  how  hard 
he  stares  at  Mr.  Potts !"  she  added  in  her  own  mind, 
with  an  irresistible  inner  chuckle.  "I  am  sure  he  is 
thinking  how  good  to  eat  the  dear  gentleman  would 
be." 


158     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

To  judge  from  the  fixity  of  the  yellow  glass  eyes, 
under  which  the  motor  manufacturer  himself  began 
to  fidget  uncomfortably,  the  big  lion  close  by  seemed 
to  be  quite  of  Irma's  opinion.  Nothing  less  than 
the  meat-laden  basket's  appearance  on  the  arena 
was  needed  to  divert  his  royal  attention. 

"I  hope  the  spectacle  is  not  offensive  to  you," 
Mr.  Potts  was  murmuring  in  Irma's  ear.  "Some 
ladies  dislike  the  sight  of  the  raw  meat.  Indeed,  it 
is  not  precisely  appetizing."  A  slight  grimace  dis- 
turbed his  rosy  face  as  he  said  it.  Obviously  the 
raw  meat  was  not  to  his  taste.  He  himself  looked, 
indeed,  as  though  he  had  been  fed  exclusively  on 
bread  and  milk. 

"No,  I  don't  mind,"  said  Irma,  impatiently. 

"But  perhaps  your  father  does?  He  is  not  look- 
ing very  well." 

Irma,  turning  her  head  quickly,  saw  that  her 
father,  with  a  deadly  pale  face,  was  leaning  so 
heavily  against  a  bar  in  front  of  him  as  to  make 
it  seem  probable  that  without  its  support  he  would 
have  fallen.  Instantly  both  the  lions  and  Mr. 
Potts  became  things  of  unimportance. 

"Papa!  what  is  the  matter?  Are  you  ill?"  she 
asked  urgently,  above  Tom's  head. 

His  eyes  were  staring  straight  through  the  cage, 
and  out  at  the  other  side,  glued,  it  would  seem,  to 
a  group  imperfectly  visible  through  the  double  row 
of  separating  bars.  Twice  his  lips  moved  before  he 
managed  to  say,  in  a  whisper  audible  to  her  alone: 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     159 

"It's  Greyson,  and  he  may  see  me  any  moment." 

With  panic  clutching  her  heart,  Irma  peered 
through  the  breadth  of  the  cage,  filled  now  by  a 
monstrous  crunching  of  bones.  She  knew  that  Grey- 
son  was  the  London  manager  of  the  "Anglo- 
Saxon."  What  she  saw  was  a  stumpy  gentleman 
with  pepper-and-salt  side-whiskers,  and  with  a 
small,  fuzzy-haired  girl  clinging  on  to  each  of  his 
arms  in  what  was  evidently  an  ecstasy  of  shivers. 

"That  man  with  the  girls?" 

He  nodded. 

"But  he  hasn't  seen  you  yet?" 

"Not  yet." 

"Come  away  quickly.  They  are  busy  with  the 
lions  now." 

Dropping  Tom's  hand,  she  took  hold  of  her 
father's  arm  and  attempted  to  support  him. 

"Allow  me!" 

Mr.  Potts's  vigorous  aid  was,  for  the  moment, 
not  unwelcome.  • 

"Your  father  is  not  well,  I  see.  It  is  that  hor- 
rible meat,  or  perhaps  the  smell." 

"Yes,  yes — the  smell,"  said  Irma,  vaguely.  "We 
must  get  home  at  once.  How  far  is  it  to  the  'bus?" 

"The  'bus?  It  is  not  to  be  thought  of,  Fraulein 
Hartmann.  Just  look  how  white  he  is !  My  car  is 
at  the  entrance ;  you  will  allow  me,  surely " 

"Ah,  no — we  can  get  a  hansom." 

"Even  if  there  happens  to  be  one  about — it's 
Sunday,  you  know ;  he  wouldn't  be  nearly  so  com- 


160     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

fortable  in  a  hansom  as  in  my  car;  the  'Cerberus' 
neither  vibrates  nor  smells,  upon  my  honour  it 
doesn't,  and  cushions  as  soft  as  any  sofa." 

Had  Irma  been  a  possible  purchaser,  he  could 
not  have  more  eagerly  reeled  off  the  virtues  of  the 
article. 

All  the  way  to  the  entrance,  during  which  Hard- 
ing spoke  nothing  and  dragged  heavily  at  his  arm, 
Mr.  Potts  was  praying  fervently  that  no  hansom 
should  be  in  sight.  It  proved  to  be  one  of  those 
rare  prayers  which  find  a  direct  hearing. 

"You  see,  Fraulein  Hartmann — there  is  nothing 
for  it  but  my  car." 

He  tried  to  say  it  with  a  not  too  indecent  exul- 
tation over  the  so  fortunate  combination  of  circum- 
stances. 

"Oh,  well,  all  right — if  it  doesn't  take  you  too 
much  out  of  your  way,"  said  Irma,  with  the  indiffer- 
ence of  recklessness,  lost  to  all  minor  considerations 
by  the  sight  of  her  father's  waxen  face. 

Half  an  hour  ago  it  would  have  been  hard  to 
believe  that  she  could  take  her  very  first  motor  drive 
with  such  a  complete  absence  of  interest  in  the  sub- 
ject itself.  The  dust-mask  and  goggles  of  the  care- 
fully turned-out  chauffeur  failed  to  amuse  her,  and 
the  speed  with  which  they  set  in  motion  rejoiced 
her  only  because  she  saw  therein  escape  from  a  pos- 
sible pursuit.  She  would  have  liked  the  vehicle 
better  still  had  it  been  closed,  for  by  the  mere  col- 
lapse of  her  father's  figure  she  could  guess  at  his 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     161 

longing  for  a  dark  corner.  It  was  only  well  beyond 
Regent's  Park  that,  with  a  new  stab  of  pity,  she 
asked  herself  whether  the  pursuit  had  ever  been  a 
real  danger.  Even  if  the  eyes  of  the  grey-whis- 
kered gentleman  had  actually  rested  upon  her  fath- 
er's face,  would  recognition  have  ensued  ?  Had  not 
suffering  conspired  with  that  snow-white  beard  to 
weave  as  effectual  a  mask  as  the  one  worn  by  that 
ridiculous  chauffeur? 

Meanwhile  the  "Cerberus"  contained  at  least 
one  happy  person.  And  even  Tom,  unduly  cur- 
tailed though  he  had  been  of  the  end  of  the  lions' 
feed,  was  too  busy  with  his  problem  to  feel  the  dis- 
appointment keenly. 

"I  don't  believe  there  was  only  one,"  was  the 
final  confidence  made  to  his  pillow  that  night. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

BOB    KENDALL 

"Ir  there's  one  thing  that  upsets  my  moral  equi- 
librium more  than  another,"  ruminated  Vincent,  at 
the  conclusion  of  a  church  parade,  whose  thinness 
attested  the  waning  season,  "it's  the  wrong  sort  of 
sermon." 

At  the  park  entrance  he  stood  still,  deeply  con- 
sidering. 

"Now,  I  wonder  if  Eaton  Place  is  expecting  me 
to  lunch?  Hum!  I  suppose  so.  If  I  could  count 
upon  unmixed  family  they  could  have  me  and  wel- 
come. But  when  are  they  unmixed  nowadays?" 

Rarely,  to  say  the  truth.  Of  all  the  meals  eaten 
lately  at  the  paternal  board  not  one  had  been  eaten 
en  famille.  Let  him  cross  the  threshold  at  what  hour 
he  chose,  a  visitor  was  sure  to  be  in  possession — a 
different  one  almost  each  time,  but  all  belonging 
to  that  well-defined  class  which  in  his  grandmother's 
mind  crystallised  into  the  right  sort  of  wife.  Fair 
ones  and  dark  ones,  tall  ones  and  short  ones — evi- 
dently he  was  to  be  given  a  wide  range  of  choice. 
To  a  mildly  chronic  persecution  of  the  sort  he  had 

162 


POMP  AND   CIRCUMSTANCE     163 

been  hardened  for  long,  but  within  the  last  two 
months  it  had  become  acute.  Heiresses  positively 
swarmed  nowadays  in  Eaton  Place,  and  girls  with 
connexions  lurked  in  the  very  corners  of  the  room. 
No  explanation  had  ever  been  given  of  their  pres- 
ence, and  none  asked.  Lately,  however,  the  heir- 
esses had  been  left  to  the  tender  mercies  of  the  ex- 
Ambassador. 

"Of  course,  I  don't  want  to  mangle  granny's 
feelings,"  mused  Vincent,  conscious  of  a  strong  de- 
sire to  shun  the  domestic  table,  and  with  eyes  which 
vainly  plumbed  the  Sunday  crowd  for  familiar 
faces,  "but  if  a  fellow  could  get  hold  of  a  decent 
pretext " 

A  hand  falling  heavily  on  his  shoulder  caused 
him  to  turn  his  head. 

"Vin,  by  Jove!  What  luck!  My  last  chance, 
too." 

His  hand  was  in  that  of  a  bearded  giant,  and 
being  wrung  to  the  point  of  physical  pain.  In  spite 
of  the  pain  Vincent's  face  cleared. 

"Splendid!  Just  what  I  want!  You're  my  pre- 
text, Bob !" 

"Your  how  much  ?" 

"My  pretext.  Never  mind.  We  toddle 
straight  to  my  club.  I  annex  you — no,  'comman- 
deer' is  the  right  word,  isn't  it? — for  lunch." 

The  giant  consulted  his  watch. 

"All  right.  I'm  yours  for  a  couple  of  hours. 
Packing  all  done,  and  only  a  few  fellows  to  look 


up.  I  say,  what  luck  to  run  against  you,  old  boy ! 
I  wasn't  even  sure  whether  you  hadn't  cleared  out 
for  your  summer  holiday;  or  are  you  kept  too  busy 
at  your  intrigue-spinning  business  to  be  given  play- 
time?" 

"I  can  have  eight  weeks'  leave  if  I  choose  to  ask 
for  it,"  said  Vincent,  with  a  trifle  of  stiffness,  in- 
duced by  the  word  "intrigue."  Bob,  too!  It  was 
absurd.  "But  I'm  not  sure  about  it  yet." 

Soon  they  sat  on  either  side  of  a  tiny  table  a 
deux,  with  many  good  things  to  eat  and  drink,  and 
with  Piccadilly — the  subdued  Sunday  Piccadilly — 
wherewith  to  amuse  their  eyes. 

"Make  the  most  of  English  food  while  you  have 
it,"  explained  Bob,  by  way  of  apology  for  his  appe- 
tite, which  was  perfectly  in  proportion  with  his 
frame,  and  above  the  napkin  which  he  had  inserted 
into  his  collar  and  spread  carefully  over  his  Sunday 
waistcoat.  Distinctly  colonial  he  looked  among  the 
correct  London  silhouettes,  the  smallpox  marks  with 
which  his  broad  face  was  closely  pitted  emphasising 
the  flavour — for  where  except  in  out-of-the-way 
corners  of  the  world  is  such  disfigurement  not  obso- 
lete ? — and  giving  him  at  the  same  time  a  vague  re- 
semblance to  some  weather-beaten  stone  figure  upon 
which  the  drip  of  many  showers  has  been  at  work. 
Even  the  yellow-brown  beard  lent  itself  to  the  illu- 
sion, marking  as  it  did  the  tints  of  those  mosses 
which  love  to  gather  upon  coarse-grained  stone. 
Besides  all  this,  Bob  Kendall  had  what  some  one 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     165 

had  once  described  as  "screamingly  honest"  grey- 
blue  eyes,  and  a  smile  which,  despite  defective  teeth, 
contrived  to  be  fascinating.  The  describer  of  the 
eyes  had  likewise  said  that  he  looked  "like  some- 
body's best  friend";  but,  in  point  of  fact,  there  was 
no  monopoly  to  his  friendship,  since  it  belonged  to 
everybody. 

Becomingly  presently  aware  that  Vincent  was  not 
keeping  pace  with  his  achievements,  his  fork 
dropped  sympathetically. 

"I  say,  old  man,  this  won't  do — off  your  feed, 
are  you  ?  Is  this  the  effect  of  overwork  or  of  over- 
play? I've  never  before  known  you  meditative  ex- 
cept over  politics.  A  penny  for  your  thoughts,  my 
boy!" 

"Eminently  Sabbatical  thoughts  at  this  mo- 
ment. I  actually  happen  to  be  meditating  upon  the 
sermon  I  heard  this  morning." 

"Hum!" 

Bob  squinted  at  him  doubtfully,  for  the  depar- 
ture was  new. 

"And  the  subject?" 

"The  abode  of  the  blessed.  Giving  us  his  ideas 
of  Paradise,  you  know.  By-the-by,  I  find  there's 
nothing  for  gauging  a  person's  character  like  ques- 
tioning him  on  his  conception  of  eternal  bliss.  The 
golden  city,  or  the  jasper  city,  or  whatever  the  ma- 
terial is,  don't  seem  to  be  much  in  fashion  just 
now.  Privately,  I  believe  that  the  happy  hunting 
ground  of  the  Indian  is  the  ideal  cherished  by  most 


i  66     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

of  my  countrymen — a  sort  of  glorified  pheasant- 
preserve  or  deer-forest — it's  the  only  really  sport- 
ing version  when  you  come  to  think  of  it.  The 
ladies,  I  suppose — to  judge  from  the  amount  of 
garden  catalogues  about — would  vote  for  the  Gar- 
den of  Eden,  with  angelic  gardeners,  of  course,  and 
unlimited  spring-bulbs.  But  our  man  to-day  was 
much  more  go-ahead  than  that — talked  of  nothing 
but  'soaring  through  space'  and  the  'whirl  of  pin- 
ions.' I  fancy  he  had  a  flying-machine  in  his  mind's 
eye,  or  at  the  very  least  a  manageable  airship. 
Something  very  much  up-to-date,  anyway.  No  place 
in  particular,  but  getting  about  as  fast  as  possible 
from  one  place  to  the  other,  seems  to  be  his  private 
idea  of  bliss." 

"Ha,  ha !  You  don't  seem  to  agree  with  him. 
Any  idea  of  your  own  ?" 

Vincent  seemed  to  be  looking  for  the  answer  in 
the  depth  of  his  claret-glass,  which  he  slowly  emp- 
tied. 

"None  very  definite  about  the  locality,  I  think, 
or  any  preference  for  city  or  garden,  so  long  as  the 
company  was  all  right." 

"And  what  would  be  the  appearance  of  the  com- 
pany?" 

"They  would  have  to  have  blue  eyes,  I  think, 
and  black  lashes." 

Bob  let  out  half  a  guffaw,  and  then  stopped  it, 
looking  about  him  as  though  with  a  sudden  con- 
sciousness of  his  whereabouts. 


POMP  AND   CIRCUMSTANCE     167 

"Oh,  I  see !  Sounds  a  bit  Mahommedan,  doesn't 
it?  Houris,  you  know,  and  that  sort  of  thing." 

"Why  not?"  said  Vincent,  with  a  smile  that  al- 
most achieved  the  flippancy  it  aimed  at — yet  with 
his  next  word  he  dexterously  turned  the  talk. 

"And  your  idea?  Let's  hear  what  notions  of 
Paradise  South  Africa  breeds." 

"To  me  heaven  stands  for  the  place  where  there 
are  to  be  no  more  partings."  Bob  said  it  with  a 
sudden  gravity  which  touched  on  wistfulness. 

"To  be  sure !  You're  fresh  from  down  there, 
aren't  you  ?"  said  Vincent,  looking  at  his  friend  in 
quickening  sympathy.  Knowing  what  a  place  part- 
ings took  in  this  man's  life,  he  could  weigh  the 
meaning  behind  the  words.  At  the  same  moment 
some  other  words,  spoken  by  Minna  not  long  ago, 
returned  to  his  mind.  "Drab-coloured  heroism," 
she  had  said.  It  had  never  before  struck  him  that 
there  might  be  some  truth  in  this  conception  of  the 
big,  simple-minded  fellow,  who  always  looked  so 
cheerful,  and  plied  so  good  a  knife  and  fork;  but 
a  certain  note  in  the  voice  which  had  just  spoken 
betrayed  things  behind.  "A  hero  incog" — was  it 
possible?  More  attentively  than  he  had  ever  done 
before,  Vincent  looked  at  his  friend,  glancing  back 
at  his  history  the  while. 

A  pretty  commonplace  history  on  the  whole. 
Nothing  either  very  dramatic  or  very  sensational 
about  the  failure  in  life  of  these  old  family  friends; 
a  self-inflicted  failure,  too,  since  it  was  in  attempting 


i68     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

to  double  a  very  comfortable  competence  that  the 
speculative  head  of  the  house,  seized  by  the  Stock 
Exchange  mania,  had  landed  himself  and  his  de- 
pendants in  indigence.  The  only  son,  brought  up 
to  expect  millions,  finished  his  education  just  in 
time  to  become  the  sole  support  of  his  parents.  Cir- 
cumstances combined  to  add  exile  to  his  other  trials. 
For  fifteen  years  past  he  had  been  managing  a  large 
Transvaal  farm  for  a  rich  Boer,  who  allowed  him 
a  trip  home  every  three  years  and  gave  good 
enough  pay  to  let  him  keep  his  aged  parents  in  com- 
fort, though  not  good  enough  to  leave  room  for 
his  own  settlement  in  life.  Even  had  the  profit  been 
bigger,  the  thing  would  have  remained  an  impossi- 
bility, for  the  "little  girl"  to  whom  his  troth  had 
been  plighted  since  boyhood  was  the  only  person 
available  to  look  after  the  old  people,  and  would 
as  surely  have  refused  to  desert  her  post  as  it  was 
certain  that  he  would  never  ask  her  to  do  so. 

That  plighting  of  the  troth  was  an  old  affair 
now,  so  old  that  the  delicate  profile  of  the  "little 
girl"  was  already  sharpening,  and  that  among  her 
golden  hair  some  premature  silver  threads  gleamed. 
Neither  was  it  a  public  matter,  though  both  Vincent 
and  Minna  owed  their  initiation  to  a  burst  of  con- 
fidence, having,  however,  to  bind  themselves  over 
to  dead  silence  towards  the  old  people. 

"What's  the  use  of  telling  them? — would  only 
make  them  feel  uncomfortable,"  Bob  had  argued, 
when  opening  his  heart  to  the  younger  man,  than 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     169 

whom,  despite  his  forty-odd  years,  he  was  in  many 
respects  younger.  "She  couldn't  leave  them  alone 
in  any  case.  They  were  kind  to  her  in  the  days 
when  they  still  had  something  and  she  had  noth- 
ing— so,  of  course,  she  can't  turn  her  back  upon 
them  now  that  they've  all  got  nothing  together." 

So  things  continued  as  they  were;  and  every 
three  years  Bob  had  the  opportunity  of  noting  how 
much  of  the  bloom  had  got  rubbed  off  the  flower 
he  had  hoped  to  gather  in  the  morning  dew — and 
the  partings  grew  sadder,  but  not  less  brave;  and 
old  Mr.  Kendall  blessed  Heaven  aloud  for  having 
given  him  so  dutiful  a  son,  and  more  loudly  still 
for  having  so  nobly  supported  him  in  his  up-bring- 
ing— for  even  in  the  recognition  of  Bob's  qualities 
this  imperturbably  self-satisfied  old  man  contrived 
to  annex  the  chief  credit.  "Tell  me  what  sort  of 
son  you  have  and  I  will  tell  you  what  sort  of  a 
father  you  are !"  he  would  triumphantly  fling  at  the 
head  of  less  fortunate  parents,  while  pottering 
about  the  garden  of  the  comfortable  cottage  in 
which  Bob  had  settled  him,  quite  as  happy  in  watch- 
ing his  roses  as  he  had  once  been  in  studying  the 
Stock  Exchange  columns,  and  blissfully  unaware  of 
being  in  any  way  the  recipient  of  a  sacrifice.  It  was 
so  natural  that  a  good  son  should  not  let  his  par- 
ents starve,  and,  in  particular,  a  father  who,  but  for 
the  cruel  persecutions  of  fate,  would  infallibly  have 
made  of  his  son  a  millionaire.  The  mere  happiness 
of  having  him  for  a  father  seemed,  in  Mr.  Ren- 


170     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

dall's  opinion,  to  outweigh  all  other  obligations. 
Even  had  he  known  that  Bob  and  Lucy  entertained 
for  each  other  more  than  cousinly  feelings,  it  is  not 
likely  that  his  equanimity  would  have  greatly  suf- 
fered. But  the  circumstance  escaped  his  notice,  in 
which  point  he  was  probably  less  guiltily  egoistic 
than  the  large,  lazy  Mrs.  Kendall,  who  had  her 
suspicions  regarding  the  condition  of  Lucy's  heart, 
but  kept  them  to  herself  because  she  disliked  emo- 
tions, and  salved  her  conscience  by  reflecting  upon 
the  fewness  of  the  years  lying  presumably  before 
her,  and  which  she  craved  only  to  live  in  peace. 

To  Bob  and  Lucy  the  situation  seemed  quite  as 
much  a  matter  of  course.  In  fulfilling  so  clear  a 
duty  they  had  never  been  able  to  discern  anything 
out  of  the  common.  And,  of  course,  it  was  clear — 
so  clear  that  "not  to  do  it  would  be  to  be  a  brute," 
as  Bob  himself  had  once  put  it.  But  it  was  not  the 
thing  done ;  it  was — Minna  had  said  that — the  way 
of  doing  it.  By  the  carriage  of  Bob's  head,  by  the 
readiness  of  his  smile,  it  might  have  been  supposed 
that  the  burden  on  his  shoulders  was  but  a  feather's 
weight.  And  the  "little  girl's"  pluck  was  equal  to 
his.  In  the  weary  years  of  separation  those  in  the 
secret  would  ask  themselves:  did  it  ever  occur  to 
them  that  the  opening  of  two  graves  would  mean 
deliverance?  Humanly  speaking,  it  seemed  un- 
avoidable ;  but  if  the  thought  ever  rose,  it  had  never 
got  translated  into  as  much  as  a  fretful  word,  nor 
even  into  one  of  blame  for  the  hare-brained  enter- 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     171 

prises  responsible  for  the  ruin.  The  usual  drop  of 
bitterness  which  goes  to  the  composition  of  even 
good-natured  men  seemed  to  have  been  forgotten 
in  Bob's  case. 

Something  of  all  this  Vincent  considered,  while 
watching  the  size  of  the  cheese  chunks  which  the 
other  was  disposing  of.  Was  it  because  of  his  in- 
vincible appetite  (as  though  so  huge  a  frame  could 
have  subsisted  on  less)  that  the  idea  of  sentiment 
seemed  so  hard  to  fit  into  Bob's  personality? 

"So  you're  off  to  your  drudgery  for  another  three 
years?  Or  has  it  stopped  being  drudgery?  Maybe 
you're  a  fanatic  farmer  by  this  time?" 

Bob  laughed  knowingly. 

"Give  me  a  bit  of  land  of  my  own,  and  you'd  see 
the  fanatic  fast  enough.  What  with  the  soil  and 
the  climate  and  the  new  opening  up  of  the  country 
it's  the  place  to  breed  the  species.  But  it's  difficult 
to  be  fanatical  about  another  man's  ground,  though 
I  don't  believe  I  could  do  better  for  my  own." 

"And  no  chance  of  getting  that  bit  of  your 
own?" 

"None,"  said  Bob,  with  a  decisive  shake  of  his 
big  head.  "The  building  of  the  nest  isn't  a  bit 
nearer  than  when  I  spoke  to  you  last." 

The  hand  with  which  he  stretched  for  his  wine- 
glass gave  a  slight  but  expressive  jerk. 

"But  there  are  mouthfuls  a-going,  I  tell  you !" 
he  went  on,  with  kindling  interest.  "Mouthfuls 
that  are  being  scrambled  for  already !  If  ever  there 


172     POMP  AND   CIRCUMSTANCE 

was  a  country  with  its  future  written  plainly  on  its 
face  it's  the  Transvaal." 

"Oh,  yes,  we've  done  a  good  deal,  no  doubt," 
said  Vincent,  with  a  tepidity  which  increased  Bob's 
warmth,  sending  him  off  into  a  panegyric  of  South 
African  resources,  in  which  ostriches,  peaches  and 
diamonds  aptly  represented  the  three  natural  king- 
doms. 

"For  a  fellow  with  a  bit  of  capital  in  his  hand 
it's  a  found  bargain — capital,  brains — and  a  free 
hand,"  added  Bob,  with  a  half-sigh,  quickly  re- 
pressed. "But,  mind,  I'm  not  complaining,"  he 
carefully  corrected  himself.  "There  are  lots  of  fel- 
lows worse  off  than  I.  Give  me  an  English  master, 
and  I'd  not  have  a  word  to  say.  This  man  is  quite 
one  of  the  decent  Boers,  but  somehow  we  seem  to 
be  talking  different  languages.  But  as  for  com- 
plaining— no.  Isn't  it  enough  to  have  got  tacked 
back  again  on  to  dear  old  England?  Why,  it 
scarcely  feels  like  exile  now !  And  such  a  country, 
too!" 

Vincent  listened  rather  dreamily  to  a  second  pan- 
egyric, this  time  of  rolling  velds,  towering  gum- 
trees  and  waving  mimosa-bushes. 

"And  as  for  the  sport !" 

Bob  had  to  fetch  a  breath  before  feeling  compe- 
tent to  do  justice  to  the  glories  of  springbok  and 
bustard. 

"Not  that  a  fellow  often  gets  the  chance  of  a 
shot,"  he  admitted,  in  conclusion.  "A  Boer  farmer 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     173 

has  a  most  excellent  idea  of  getting  his  money's 
worth  out  of  either  beast  or  man." 

Close  questioning  elicited  a  few  further  facts — 
such  as  that  Bob's  quarters  were  a  one-chambered 
hut,  that  he  had  to  be  in  the  saddle  by  five  every 
morning,  that  the  post  arrived  once  a  week,  and 
that  the  nearest  Englishman  lived  twenty  miles  off ; 
for  the  pathos  of  the  existence  of  "everybody's 
friend"  was  added  to  by  the  fact  of  severance  from 
all  friendship.  "The  life  of  a  galley-slave  and  of 
an  exile  rolled  into  one,"  decided  Vincent  within 
himself,  while  saying  aloud: 

"And  that  sort  of  life  satisfies  you?" 

Bob  appeared  to  be  conscientiously  looking  for 
a  truthful  answer. 

"Isn't  'satisfy'  a  rather  big  word?  I've  told  you 
that  it's  not  like  working  for  oneself.  But  there — 
it's  something,  isn't  it,  to  have  a  plain  job  cut  out 
for  you,  and  to  feel  that  you  can  do  it?  One  doesn't 
feel  absolutely  useless,  you  know,"  explained  Bob, 
with  engaging  shamefacedness. 

"I  suppose  so,"  said  Vincent,  watching  the 
other's  face  in  a  way  which  betrayed  some  latent 
interest.  "Yes,  your  job  is  plain,  anyway.  No 
twists  and  turns  about  your  path  of  life,  anyway. 
Bob,  you've  never  been  bothered  with  ambition,  I 
suppose?" 

"Ambition  ?  You  mean  wanting  to  make  a  name 
in  the  world?  All  very  well  for  the  fellows  with 
brains  like  you,  Vin,  but  not  for  the  people  like 


174     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

myself."  This  with  a  glance  of  deferential  admira- 
tion for  his  friend,  for  Bob  belonged  to  the  most 
fervent  believers  in  Vincent's  future. 

"Some  of  those  Boer  girls  are  handsome,  aren't 
they?"  asked  the  other  abruptly,  after  a  long,  at- 
tentive gaze.  "Have  you  never  grown  weak  in 
their  hands,  or  are  the  hands  too  big  for  the  pur- 
pose?" 

Bob's  stare  became  acutely  reproachful. 

"Vin !  This  from  you !  And  when  you  know 
about  the  little  girl?" 

"Does  her  image  actually  suffice  to  overshadow 
all  her  Boer  sisters?  Three  years  are  a  long  in- 
terval." 

Vincent  was  still  closely  studying  the  face  oppo- 
site, possessed  by  a  quite  new  curiosity  concerning 
the  strength  of  Bob's  attachment,  or,  perhaps,  of 
the  affairs  of  the  heart  generally. 

"It  might  be  fifty  years,"  said  Bob,  very  low  and 
very  gravely,  "and  it  would  make  no  difference." 

"Ah!" 

Vincent  leaned  forward,  with  arms  folded  on  the 
table,  intent  upon  losing  no  word. 

"So  the  feeling  can  be  as  strong  as  that,  can  it? 
I've  heard  of  such  a  thing  as  constancy,  but  I  don't 
think  I  ever  before  met  it  in  the  flesh.  And  yet  I 
wager  you've  had  your  opportunities.  They  like 
big  men  out  there." 

Upon  this  Bob  became  confused,  and,  presently, 
hard  pressed,  confessed  that  there  was  one  of  his 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     175 

employer's  daughters — and  a  fine  girl,  too — whom 
he  could  have  any  day  for  the  asking. 

"The  father  would  give  her  to  you?" 

"And  a  slice  of  ground  into  the  bargain.  He 
has  too  many  daughters  to  be  particular." 

"Bob,  you  must  be  awfully  fond  of  that  little 
girl,"  said  Vincent,  suddenly  thoughtful. 

"I  can't  help  it,"  pleaded  Bob,  almost  in  apol- 
ogy. "It's  just  that  nothing  else  counts  beside  her." 

Vincent  took  one  more  long  look  into  his  friend's 
face,  then  shook  himself  and  proposed  an  adjourn- 
ment. 

"My  last  London  day,"  said  Bob,  as 'they  de- 
scended the  club  steps,  and  sending  his  glance  about 
him  with  the  sweeping  movement  of  a  net,  seeking 
to  catch  as  many  fragments  of  home-pictures  as  it 
could  be  got  to  enclose.  As,  rather  silently  now, 
they  strolled  about  the  Sunday  streets,  Bob  was 
storing  up  these  fragments  to  live  on  for  three 
years  more. 

"Last  time  I  was  home,"  he  remarked,  presently, 
"the  tube  was  the  newest  thing.  This  time  it's  the 
motor-'bus.  What  will  it  be  next  time  ?  You  pam- 
pered sons  of  civilisation  can't  imagine  how  amus- 
ing the  motors  have  made  the  streets  for  us — almost 
as  amusing  as  a  live  toy-shop  where  all  the  mechani- 
cal toys  are  being  trotted  out  together.  I'm  never 
tired  of  watching  them.  Very  few  about  to-day. 
Ah — there !  Just  stop  a  moment,  like  a  good  boy, 
and  let  me  have  my  stare." 


176     POMP  AND   CIRCUMSTANCE 

They  had  reached  the  corner  of  Park  Lane,  down 
which  a  particularly  smart-looking  motor-car, 
guided  by  a  particularly  grotesque-looking  chauf- 
feur, was  approaching  at  top  speed. 

"Awfully  neat  thing,  that!"  grinned  the  delight- 
ed Bob,  in  the  rush  of  air  which  followed  tbe  tumul- 
tuous vehicle.  "Eh,  Vin?" 

Looking  round  for  an  answer  which  delayed, 
Bob  perceived  that  his  friend  was  standing  appar- 
ently rooted  to  the  edge  of  the  pavement,  with 
fixed  glance  drawn  in  the  rear  of  the  vanishing  car. 

"What  are  you  glaring  at?     Friends  of  yours?" 

Vincent  visibly  pulled  himself  together. 

"No — of  course  not.  I  was  only  wondering  at 
the  pace.  You'll  be  off,  I  suppose,  now,  won't  you  ? 
And  I'm  afraid  I  have  some  calls  to  pay." 

The  parting  was  more  abrupt  than  seemed  quite 
explicable  to  Bob. 

The  calls,  however,  were  not  paid,  for  the  reason 
that  Vincent  was  too  busily  occupied  in  exercising 
his  mind  over  what  he  had  just  seen.  Even  in  that 
instant  of  swift  passage  he  had  clearly  recognised 
Fraulein  Hartmann,  with  her  father  beside  her,  and 
had  been  vaguely  aware  of  a  young  man  and  of  a 
small  boy.  For  this  strange  fact — whose  strange- 
ness, to  be  sure,  was  no  earthly  concern  of  his — he 
felt  pushed  to  find  an  explanation. 

A  young  man  and  a  motor — these  were  the  ele- 
ments of  the  problem;  a  private  motor,  obviously, 
and — as  seemed  logical  to  suppose- — belonging  to 


POMP  AND   CIRCUMSTANCE     177 

the  young  man.  Another  inference  frequently 
drawn  from  the  proximity  of  a  young  man  and  a 
young  woman  likewise  presented  itself  for  consid- 
eration. Well,  she  was  beautiful  enough  to  make 
anything  seem  possible,  so  why  not  the  capture  of 
a  rich  youth  ? — and,  even  from  that  flying  glimpse, 
Vincent  had  gathered  the  impression  of  blatant 
prosperity.  Yes,  but  the  boy?  Absolutely  he  did 
not  know  where  to  put  the  boy.  A  pater-familiasf 
The  aspect  had  been  too  conspicuously  youthful  to 
support  the  hypothesis.  To  be  sure,  he  might  be  a 
villain — and  in  that  case — in  that  case  it  likewise 
was  no  concern  of  Vincent's.  And  yet  he  was  aware 
that  the  unriddling  of  the  riddle  had  become  neces- 
sary for  his  peace  of  mind. 

"To-morrow  is  Monday!"  he  concluded  his  re- 
flections. 

Next  afternoon,  in  the  middle  of  the  German 
lessons  in  Fortague  Street,  there  was  the  sound  of 
what  appeared  to  be  a  slight  scuffle  outside  the 
drawing-room  door,  upon  which  Vincent  walked 
in  unannounced  by  the  baffled  Wilson,  and  looking 
entirely  unabashed. 

"My  dear  Vincent!"  began  Minna,  but,  noting 
the  set  of  his  mouth,  merged  her  protest  into  a 
question  as  to  whether  he  had  brought  any  news 
from  Eaton  Place. 

"No  news,"  said  Vincent,  with  what  looked  like 
perfect  coolness;  "only  a  farewell  message  from 
Bob  Kendall.  You  need  not  move,  Fraulein  Hart- 


POMP  AND   CIRCUMSTANCE 

mann — I  shall  not  interrupt  for  long.  Bob  Kendall 
was  that  big  man  with  the  beard  whom  you  per- 
haps noticed  yesterday  at  the  corner  of  Park  Lane," 
he  added,  turning  more  deliberately  towards  Irma. 

"Park  Lane?"  she  repeated,  meeting  his  piercing 
look  of  inquiry  with  one  of  obvious  incomprehen- 
sion, her  fingers  pausing  in  the  turning  over  of  a 
page. 

"So  she  did  not  see  me,"  noted  Vincent,  while 
pursuing: 

"Yes.  I  was  not  aware  that  you  liked  motor- 
driving.  But  unless  you  want  to  be  brought  up  for 
excess  of  pace  I  should  advise  you  to  look  after  your 
chauffeur" 

At  sight  of  the  rush  of  blood  to  her  face  the 
veiled  bitterness  of  his  tone  translated  itself  into  a 
somewhat  merciless  smile. 

"My  chauffeur!  Oh,  I  see — you  mean  Mr. 
Potts's  chauffeur." 

("Potts!"  Down  went  the  name  into  a  mental 
notebook. ) 

"A  friend  of  yours  ?"  he  asked,  and  by  the  proud 
astonishment  in  her  eyes  became  aware  that  he  had 
put  the  question  as  though  he  had  the  right  to  an 
answer.  Hurriedly  he  attempted  to  get  rid  of  this 
undue  earnestness  of  tone,  much  as  the  air-shipper 
will  lighten  his  balloon  by  throwing  ballast  over- 
board. Without  waiting  for  her  answer,  he  said, 
forcing  another  smile: 

"Perhaps  it  was  to  amuse  the  small  Potts  that 


179 

you  were  going  so  fast  ? — for  there  is  a  small  Potts 
in  the  question,  isn't  there  ?  A  pupil,  no  doubt?" 

But  the  attempt  at  carelessness  did  not  nearly 
come  up  to  his  usual  efforts  in  that  line. 

"He  has  been  my  pupil,  but  I  don't  give  him  les- 
sons now." 

"Perhaps  it  is  the  papa  who  is  rubbing  up  his 
languages?" 

"Mr.  Potts  is  not  his  papa — I  mean,  not  this 
Mr.  Potts — only  his  uncle." 

"Ah !  Capital  institution  for  small  boys,  bache- 
lor uncles  are !" 

Against  his  own  will  his  glance  had  again  be- 
come inquisitorial,  as  with  drawn  brows  and  nar- 
rowed pupils  he  waited  for  the  correction  of  the 
word,  on  which  he  had  laid  an  imperceptible  stress. 
But  no  correction  came,  and  in  the  displeasure  on 
Irma's  face  confusion  was  plainly  mingled. 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  Minna,  till  now  a 
silent  observer  of  the  scene,  interposed  with  some 
question  touching  Bob  Kendall.  It  relieved  the 
tension  enough  to  preserve  conventions,  but  not 
enough  to  ensure  a  normal  ending  of  the  inter- 
rupted lesson,  Fraulein  Hartmann's  disturbance  be- 
ing too  evident  to  let  Minna  wish  to  detain  her. 
Though  Vincent  had  not  even  sat  down  during  the 
short  dialogue,  it  was,  after  all,  Irma  who,  under 
cover  of  an  improvised  excuse,  first  withdrew. 

For  some  moments  silence  reigned  in  the  small, 


i8o    POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

crowded  drawing-room.  Then  Vincent  turned  to 
Minna  and  said,  with  recovered  calm : 

"Minna,  I  think  I  shall  ask  for  those  eight 
weeks'  leave,  after  all." 

"I  think  you  had  better,"  said  Minna,  and  foe 
the  moment  that  was  all  that  passed  between  them* 

That  night,  or,  rather,  next  morning,  on  his  re- 
turn from  one  of  the  last  gatherings  of  the  season, 
Vincent  elaborated  the  train  of  thoughts  started  in 
that  remark. 

"This  won't  do,  Vin,  my  boy,"  he  apostrophised 
himself  while  stretching  between  the  sheets,  "ab- 
solutely this  won't  do !  High  time  to  clear  out  for 
a  bit.  What  are  the  facts?  A  young  person  who 
gives  lessons  is  seen  by  you  in  a  motor-car.  In- 
stantly you  require  to  know  who  the  motor  belongs 
to,  and  now  that  you  know  it  you're  not  a  bit  hap- 
pier. You've  ascertained  that  he's  a  bachelor.  Well, 
what  of  that?  And  supposing  his  intentions  to  be 
matrimonial — which  that  guilty  heightening  of  col- 
our certainly  seems  to  imply — in  what  way  can  that 
possibly  regard  you?  A  man  who  can  purchase  a 
motor-car  of  that  description  is  probably  at  liberty 
to  purchase  whatever  sort  of  wife  pleases  him.  But 
your  path  doesn't  lie  in  the  direction  of  penniless 
and  nameless  teachers — never  can  lie  in  that  direc- 
tion. Oh,  yes,  it's  time  to  clear  out.  By  Autumn 
it's  ten  to  one  the  Roman  secretaryship  will  be  va- 
cant, which  will  put  half  Europe  between  me  and 
— her.  But  en  attendant  I  go." 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     181 

Now  that  he  faced  the  situation  he  did  so  fully — 
making  no  pretense  about  the  feeling  that  possessed 
him,  and  which  he  now  knew  to  have  possessed  him 
ever  since  the  first  meeting — for  Irma  had  made 
upon  him  something  of  that  same  sort  of  instan- 
taneous impression  which  her  mother  had  once 
made  upon  her  father.  Both  Irma  and  Isabella  be- 
longed to  the  order  of  women  whose  victims  go 
down  at  the  first  blow.  Yet,  unlike  Edward  Hard- 
ing, Vincent  had  no  thought  of  surrender.  He  had 
always  known  that  some  such  battle  would  have  to 
be  fought  some  day.  All  sorts  of  arguments  and 
principles  were  lying  ready  for  the  occasion,  like 
weapons  diligently  furbished.  Well,  he  would  use 
them — that  was  all.  A  couple  of  months  on  Scotch 
moors,  or,  better  still,  on  that  Norwegian  river,  to 
which  a  standing  invitation — of  diplomatic  origin, 
of  course — gave  him  free  access,  would  be  all  that 
was  required. 

"It's  got  to  be  got  over,  same  as  distemper,"  Vin- 
cent coolly  argued.  A  dose  of  sulphur  usually  cured 
sick  puppies.  It  was  therefore  to  be  expected  that 
a  dose  of  Norwegian  salmon  would  prove  of  equal 
service  to  the  human  puppy. 

"I'll  secure  my  ticket-of-leave  to-morrow,"  he 
decided,  just  before  turning  over.  "This  day  week 
I  may  be  off — and  meanwhile  I'll  steer  clear  botH 
of  Fortague  Street  and  that  particular  line  of  the 
park." 

Suddenly  he  laughed  out  loud. 


182     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

"What  a  good  boy  am  I !  What  a  perfectly  rea- 
sonable and  model  youth — and  how  pleased  granny 
would  be!" 

He  laughed  again  almost  convulsively — a  note 
of  self-scorn  ringing  through  that  of  self-approval. 


PART  III 


CHAPTER  I 

"CERBERUS"  GOES  A-WOOING 

FILBERT  GARDENS  was  agitated  to  the  depth  of 
its  dingy  brick  heart. 

Not  that  this  was  the  first  invasion  of  its  almost 
cloistered  precincts  by  this  smartest  of  smart  motors 
— for  midsummer  had  witnessed  the  apparition 
more  than  once — but  that  for  quite  two  months  past 
it  had  been  watched  for  in  vain.  Its  resuscitation 
was  at  least  as  sensational  as  had  been  its  original 
appearance.  At  almost  every  second  window,  pierc- 
ing the  pseudo  prison  walls,  were  to  be  seen  noses 
flattened  against  panes,  eyes  gloating  upon  the  de- 
tails of  the  shining  and  mysterious  vehicle — for  to 
be  shaved  by  a  motor  in  the  street,  and  to  see  one 
standing  at  your  neighbour's  door,  are  two  separate 
and  distinct  experiences.  Children  were  being 
held  up  to  see  and  tremble  before  the  goggles  of 
the  hairy  monster — the  chauffeur  having  on  this 
chilly  October  day  donned  his  winter  coat.  Not  a 
person  in  the  street  in  whom  the  presence  of  this 

183 


i84     POMP  AND   CIRCUMSTANCE 

embodiment  of  luxury  did  not  induce  an  increase 
of  self-respect,  and  not  a  landlady  who  was  not  bit- 
terly asking  herself  why  lodgers  with  "motor  vis- 
itors" should  fall  to  other  people's  share  and  not 
to  her  own.  The  dwellers  on  the  first  floor  of  the 
house  so  honoured,  a  family  which  described  itself 
as  "artistic,"  who  had  taken  to  bowing  to  Irma  at 
the  time  of  the  motor's  first  appearance,  and 
dropped  the  habit  with  its  disappearance,  began  to 
think  seriously  of  scraping  acquaintance  with  the 
"foreigners."  Mrs.  Martin  herself,  whose  face  and 
figure  were  barely  familiar  to  her  lodgers — they 
knowing  her  chiefly  as  a  voice — had  toiled  up  from 
subterranean  regions,  and  stood  on  the  doorstep, 
holding  converse  with  the  hairy  man,  and  gathering 
upon  her  broad  person  all  the  reflected  glory  of  the 
incident;  while  behind  her  Pattie's  ecstatic  grin  ex- 
panded unrebuked. 

Meanwhile,  within  the  sitting-room-bedroom, 
Irma  was  having  a  "bad  quarter  of  an  hour." 

"I  cannot,  Mr.  Potts — really,  I  cannot,"  she 
pleaded,  in  growing  distress.  "I  am  truly  touched 
by  your  offer,  believe  me,  and,  of  course,  I  cannot 
doubt  your  affection,  since  beyond  myself  I  have 
nothing  to  give.  But  it  is  impossible  for  me  to — to 
do  what  you  want." 

"But  I  am  offering  to  marry  you,"  said  Mr. 
Potts,  with  his  globelike  stare  of  surprise,  and  tri- 
umphantly underlining  the  great  word.  "You  can- 
not have  properly  understood  me ;  I  am  proposing 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     185 

to  lead  you  to  the  altar,  all  right,  and  to  give  you 
my  name,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  I  don't  expect 
my  family  to  be  over-pleased,  of  course.  They 
want  me  to  marry  money,  because  of  the  firm.  But 
I  don't  see  why  a  man  shouldn't  marry  whom  he 
chooses,  so  long  as  he  can  afford  it,  and  I  can  do 
that,  thank  Heaven!" 

A  modest  little  pull  upwards  of  his  spotless  collar 
punctuated  the  gratitude. 

"Blow  the  money,  I  say,  so  long  as  the  connexion 
is  respectable,  and  I  haven't  the  smallest  doubt  that 
you  can  give  me  every  assurance  on  that  point.  Your 
grace  and — and  your  charms  quite  make  up  for  the 
want  of  fortune,  in  my  eyes,"  he  added,  in  tones 
which,  despite  their  melting  quality,  betrayed  some 
of  the  condescension  of  the  king  towards  the  beg- 
gar-maid. 

"You  are  very  kind,"  said  Irma,  hovering  on  the 
verge  of  a  burst  of  nervous  laughter. 

"Not  at  all;  I  mean  it,  really — upon  my  word  I 
do.  I  should  have  spoken  two  months  ago — that 
time  after  the — Zoo — you  know — only  that  Will- 
iam whisked  me  off  on  another  business  journey — 
a  got-up  job,  I  do  believe,  just  to  get  me  out  of  the 
way.  But  William  can't  keep  me  out  of  London 
forever,  and  he'd  better  not  try !" 

The  baby  face  crumpled  into  a  frown  which  did 
not  seem  able  to  threaten  anything  worse  than  tears. 

"I've  taken  the  very  first  opportunity  of  coming 


1 86     POiMP  AND   CIRCUMSTANCE 

— upon  my  word  I  have,  Miss  Hartmann — or — 
or  surely  I  may  say  'Irma'  now?" 

"Oh,  no,  please  not!"  murmured  Irma,  moving 
back  apprehensively,  for  the  enamoured  motor  man- 
ufacturer was  leaning  forward  in  his  chair  at  an 
angle  well-nigh  perilous. 

He  gazed  at  her  aghast,  the  dimples  in  his  pink 
cheeks  slowly  disappearing,  his  liquid  gaze,  so  to 
say,  solidifying. 

"You  cannot  mean  that  your  refusal  is  serious? 
Have  you  understood  that " 

"That  you  wish  to  marry  me — yes,  perfectly," 
said  Irma,  in  whom  exasperation  was  gaining  the 
upper  hand.  "I  should  have  thought  that  my  re- 
fusal was  as  plain  as  your  offer." 

For  a  moment  longer  he  remained  in  his  forward 
position,  with  rosy  lips  dropped  apart,  so  naively 
taken  aback  by  the  rebuff  that  again  Irma  had  to 
struggle  for  gravity.  Then  came  the  explosion. 

"But,  Miss  Hartmann,  you  can't  have  consid- 
ered, you  can't  have  grasped  what  it  is  that  you  are 
refusing!  It's  not  only  that  we  could  make  our 
honeymoon  in  the  'Cerberus,'  scouring  Europe, 
mind  you,  at  the  rate  of  sixty  miles  an  hour,  and 
any  corner  of  it  you  fancy — Alps,  Pyrenees — noth- 
ing need  stop  us,  since  the  'Cerberus'  laughs  at  hills 
— but  that  you'd  never  need  to  sit  behind  a  horse 
again,  unless  you  want  to.  Why,  I'd  undertake  to 
teach  you  the  trick  yourself  in  a  week.  Any  child 
can  manage  our  engines — that's  the  beauty  of  them 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     187 

— and  since  we  have  put  in  the  steel  cylinders,  and 
the  beaten  brass  water-jackets " 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Potts.  I  am  sure  there  will 
be  plenty  of  candidates  for  that  honeymoon,  but  I 
do  not  intend  to  compete." 

"You  surely  don't  mean  to  say  that  you  dislike 
me?"  he  asked,  struck  by  a  new  idea.  His  appre- 
ciation of  the  "Cerberus,"  as  a  rule,  rather  swamped 
his  appreciation  of  his  own  person,  or,  more  prop- 
erly speaking,  identified  itself  with  it.  At  this  mo- 
ment, however,  the  personal  question  penetrated. 

"Oh,  no,  not  at  all,"  said  Irma,  hastilyj  as  averse 
to  wounding  so  unconscious  a  conceit  as  she  would 
have  been  to  hurting  a  child.  "It  is  not  that.  But 
— I  cannot  marry.  There  are  reasons.  My 
father " 

"I  have  thought  of  that,"  broke  in  Mr.  Potts 
with  magnanimous  eagerness.  "Your  father  could 
live  with  us.  There  is  plenty  of  room,  and  really 
I  should  not  object  at  all.  Mr.  Hartmann  seems 
such  a  quiet  person;  I  am  sure  we  should  get  on  all 
right;  and  any  one  can  see  that  he  is  highly  respect- 
able. Even  William  cannot  possibly  object  to  the 
connexion." 

In  a  species  of  desperation  Irma  got  to  her  feet. 
It  seemed  the  only  way  of  ending  the  interview. 

"Thank  you  again — thank  you,"  she  said,  a  trifle 
convulsively.  "Really,  you  are  very  generous.  But 
it's  no  use  talking.  It  just  cannot  be." 


i88     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

Perforce  risen,  he  looked  at  her  with  a  new 
attention. 

"You  are  agitated,  Miss  Hartmann — only  to  be 
expected.  Perhaps  I  have  been  too  sudden.  Don't 
be  anxious — I  am  going.  But  I  don't  accept  this 
as  your  final  decision.  I  shall  give  you  a  month  to 
think  over  it — a  whole  month — and  then  I  shall 
come  back  again." 

"It  will  be  no  use,"  protested  Irma,  but  to  deaf 
ears.  Nothing  seemed  to  convince  Mr.  Joseph 
Potts  of  defeat.  He  went  out  at  last,  with  self-sat- 
isfaction almost  restored — smiling  already  at  the 
victory  which  he  considered  not  endangered,  but 
only  deferred.  It  was  but  natural,  after  all,  that 
a  girl  in  Irma's  position  should  be  struck  foolish 
by  the  honour  done  to  her,  and  in  her  astonishment 
should  doubt  her  ability  to  fill  the  place  offered. 
But  a  month's  quiet  reflection  would  help  her  to 
believe  in  her  good  luck. 

The  "Cerberus,"  followed  by  the  eyes  of  half 
the  dwellers  in  Filbert  Gardens,  had  barely  panted 
round  the  corner  when  Pattie  had  to  open  the  door 
again — to  a  pedestrian  this  time. 

"Surely  that  was  Mr.  Potts's  motor  that  I  met 
just  now?"  asked  Harding,  entering  with  rather 
more  animation  than  was  his  wont.  "Has  that 
young  man  turned  up  again  ?  What  does  he  want?" 

Behind  the  assumption  of  carelessness  a  certain 
suspense  pierced. 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     189 

Irma  turned,  her  face  still  full  of  the  distress  of 
the  recent  scene. 

"Oh,  papa,  he  wants  to  marry  me !  It  is  such  a 
bother !  You  can't  imagine  how  worried  I  am." 

"To  marry  you?" 

Harding  stood  stock-still,  looking  hard  at  his 
daughter.  "He  has  actually  made  you  a  formal 
proposal?  No  mistake  about  it?" 

"Not  the  shadow  of  a  mistake.  He  explained  it 
three  times  over.  I  expected  him  to  spell  it  ouf 
next." 

"And  you,  Irma?" 

He  seemed  to  catch  his  breath  after  the  question. 

"I?  Oh,  I  tried  to  let  him  down  as  easily  as 
I  could.  I  hope  I  wasn't  too  rude,  but  I  had  to  be 
distinct." 

"You  refused  him  off-hand?" 

"Of  course.    What  else  could  I  do?" 

Harding  laid  aside  the  hat  he  had  till  then  been 
holding  in  his  hand,  and  slowly  let  himself  down 
into  a  chair. 

"Yes — what  else  could  you  do?"  he  repeated 
heavily  and  bitterly;  "chained  as  you  are  to  a  fugi- 
tive and  a  criminal — bearing  a  name  stained  for- 
ever— how  could  you  venture  to  grasp  the  gift  of 
Fate?  Oh,  to  think  that  I  should  stand  between 
my  own  child  and  her  fortune!" 

"Papa  1"  cried  Irma,  between  laughter  and  tears, 
startled  by  so  unwonted  a  breach  in  the  monoto- 
nous grey  wall  of  his  habitual  reserve;  "but  you  are 


190     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

not  standing  between  me  and  anything!  I  swear 
to  you  that  I  am  sacrificing  nothing.  I  could  never 
marry  Mr.  Potts,  even  if — if  nothing  had  hap- 
pened." 

She  was  kneeling  beside  him,  gently  forcing  up 
his  bowed  head,  in  order  to  give  him  the  assurance 
of  her  eyes.  It  was  a  long  and  mistrustful  look 
which  he  took  into  those  eyes,  but  slowly  it  brought 
him  conviction. 

"And  yet  it  is  a  wonderful  chance!"  he  said,  in 
a  tone  that  had  now  become  speculative.  "The 
man  is  a  good  sort,  I  think,  and  he  seems  sincerely 
attached  to  you.  And  there  can  be  no  doubt  about 
his  fortune,  I  suppose?"  he  added,  with  a  touch  of 
hesitation,  and  looking  away  now  from  Irma's  face. 

"Oh,  he's  hugely  rich,  I  believe." 

"And  riches  don't  tempt  you  at  all?" 

Irma  fell  into  a  momentary  reflection. 

"Ah,  yes — they  tempt  me;  but — not  in  Mr. 
Potts's  company." 

"And  yet  his  attachment  must  be  very  genuine," 
persisted  Harding,  his  eyes  once  more  shifting  from 
beneath  his  daughter's  look,  while  the  play  of  the 
fine  wrinkles  on  his  face  betrayed  the  uneasy  work- 
ing of  some  thought  behind. 

"I  believe  it  is  genuine." 

"And  quite  disinterested,  of  course.  The  cir- 
cumstances prove  that  up  to  the  hilt.  A  man  like 
that  might  even  be  ready  for  sacrifices,  might  he 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     191 

not?  There  is  no  doubt,  at  any  rate,  that  he  could 
afford  them." 

"What  sort  of  sacrifices,  papa?  I  don't  under- 
stand. What  are  you  thinking  of  ?" 

"Just  a  passing  idea.  Stained  names  have  been 
washed  clean  ere  now  by  a  pecuniary  sacrifice;  and 
it  requires  no  more  than  that  to  put  right  the  wrong 
I  committed.  If  these  people  were  satisfied — the 
unfortunates  who  were  my  victims — I  could  show 
my  face  again.  Your  mother  even  might  forgive  me 
— perhaps ;  or,  at  least,  I  could  die  with  the  knowl- 
edge that  the  shame  was  lifted." 

He  spoke  in  an  almost  breathless  hurry,  a  faint 
streak  of  red  appearing  in  his  sallow  cheeks  and 
about  his  sunken  temples.  Since  the  day  of  their 
common  flight  it  was  the  first  plain  reference  to  that 
load  of  unliftable  shame  under  which  he  dumbly 
fretted;  and,  even  to  his  daily  companion,  the  fever 
of  his  tone  was  a  revelation.  In  silent  expectation 
she  gazed  at  him,  waiting  for  the  further  words 
which  she  saw  trembling  on  his  lips. 

"Just  an  idea,  you  know.  In  summer,  that  time 
after  the  Zoo,  when  he  came  back  to  inquire  after 
my  health — it  was  so  clearly  a  pretext — I  could  not 

help  thinking Just  supposing,  now,  that  you 

had  felt  any  sympathy  for  this  young  man — if  it 
had  been  possible  for  you  to  think  of  him  as  your 
husband — what  a  wonderful  chance  that  might  have 
been — always  supposing  that  he  actually  is  the  man 
to — to  come  up  to  the  occasion." 


192     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

He  gave  her  a  sharp  look  of  inquiry,  which  Irma, 
despite  her  aching  heart,  could  not  but  answer  with 
a  smile,  the  image  of  Mr.  Joseph  Potts  being  still 
too  fresh  in  her  mind  to  let  the  humorous  side  of 
the  situation  keep  decently  out  of  sight. 

"I  see,  papa,"  she  said,  softly  laying  her  hand 
upon  his;  "but  you  needn't  regret  my  want  of  in- 
clination, for  of  one  thing  I  am  quite  sure:  Mr. 
Potts  would  never  be  the  man  to  make  your  dream 
come  true." 

"No — I  suppose  not — it  was  only  an  idea,"  said 
Harding,  all  the  eagerness  gone  abruptly  from  both 
voice  and  face.  "Probably  it  will  never  come  true. 
How  should  it  ?  It  would  have  been  too  good  for 
real  life — the  debt  to  those  unfortunates  and  the 
debt  to  you  blotted  out  at  one  stroke !  Such  things 
don't  happen !" 

"To  me?" 

"Yes — yes — the  heaviest  of  them  all.  Your 
youth  eaten  up  by  my  age — your  spotlessness  black- 
ened by  my  sin — and  no  chance  of  repaying !  Oh, 
it  stings,  it  stings  1" 

Groaning,  he  covered  his  eyes  with  his  gaunt 
hands,  but  not  before  Irma  had  caught  in  those  pale 
blue  eyes  a  look  she  had  never  seen  there  before — 
a  look  in  which  something  like  anger  seemed  mixed 
with  the  anguish,  and  which  she  could  not  explain, 
never  having  yet  undergone  the  galling  pressure  of 
benefits  unredeemed. 

Even  without  this  understanding  the  impression 


POMP  AND   CIRCUMSTANCE     193 

left  by  the  interview  was  a  painful  one.  She  knew 
now  that  her  father  was  less  consoled,  less  resigned 
even  than  she  had  dared  to  hope.  Deep  pity  seized 
her  anew,  so  deep  as  to  set  her  ruminating  as  to 
whether,  under  given  circumstances,  she  could  ever 
have  accomplished  the  sacrifice  of  becoming  Mrs. 
Joseph  Potts,  and  to  end  by  feeling  grateful  that 
he  was  so  obviously  not  the  man  for  the  occasion. 
Poor  Mr.  Potts !  How  easy  it  was  to  picture  the 
horror  upon  that  baby  face  at  the  hearing  of  her 
real  name!  The  horizon  in  which  commercial  re- 
spectability loomed  so  big  would  certainly  never  be 
able  to  embrace  her  family  misfortune.  Even  it 
appeared  a  question  whether  the  exigencies  of  that 
spotless  business  conscience,  which  nothing  can  dis- 
turb more  deeply  than  any  tampering  with  the  al- 
mighty dollar,  might  not  compel  him  to  communi- 
cate with  the  police.  To  a  generous  silence  he 
might  possibly  stretch — certainly  not  to  more. 

The  Mr.  Hartmann  whom  he  pronounced  "re- 
spectable" might  hope  for  a  place  at  his  board;  but 
the  defrauding  bank  director — oh,  horror! 

No,  that  marriage  would  always  have  been  im- 
possible. If  any  marriage  ever  were  possible,  it 
could  only  be  one  in  which  her  father  would,  so 
to  say,  be  taken  over  in  the  bargain — in  which,  in- 
stead of  losing  a  daughter,  he  would  gain  a  son. 
Which  would  presume  a  very  great  love,  and  also 
a  complete  independence  of  the  opinions  of  men, 
and  of  their  favours. 


194    POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

Here,  without  any  apparent  reason,  Irma  began 
to  think  suddenly  of  that  day  in  Fortague  Street 
when  she  had  last  seen  Mr.  Denholm.  On  that 
occasion  she  had  made  an  astonishing  discovery — 
she  had  discovered  that  this  man  was  in  her  power. 
Up  to  what  point?  Of  this  she  could  not  be  sure. 
It  depended  upon  his  own  powers  of  resistance ;  for 
obviously  he  was  resisting.  She  had  seen  it  all 
within  the  few  minutes  of  their  brief  interview, 
read  it  in  the  intense  question  of  his  eyes,  in  the 
would-be  scorn  of  his  tone.  Of  dark  motives  his 
reserve  of  attitude  had  by  this  time  absolved  him. 
What  then  ?  Far,  far  in  the  back  of  her  head  Irma 
had  brought  away  from  that  interview  an  idea  that, 
if  she  chose  to  put  out  her  powers,  she  might  pos- 
sibly overcome  the  resistance;  but  even  in  the  mo- 
ment of  recognising  this  she  had  decided  that  the 
powers  should  not  be  put  out.  Why?  Because  he 
was  indifferent  to  her?  The  answer  dragged.  But 
that  was  neither  here  nor  there.  The  real  reason 
for  her  instant  decision  was  the  manifest  impossi- 
bility of  the  thing.  She  did  not  belong  to  herself; 
she  belonged  to  her  father.  In  the  moment  of 
espousing  his  cause  she  had  renounced  all  private 
happiness. 

And  once  more  she  had  armed  herself  against  a 
danger  which  apparently  did  not  exist,  since  upon 
the  meeting  in  Fortague  Street  there  had  followed 
a  great  blank,  not  enlivened  by  so  much  as  a  single 
encounter  in  the  park.  Whether  the  traceless  dis- 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     195 

appearance  of  "the  diplomat"  meant  voluntary 
flight  or  official  transference  to  some  foreign  post 
mattered  little.  The  chapter  was  evidently  closed. 
On  the  whole  it  might  be  wisest  to  consider  the 
matrimonial  chapter  generally  as  finally  closed,  and 
to  rehearse  the  role  of  old  maid,  which  she  had 
hitherto  thought  synonymous  with  "old  cat."  Yet 
some  old  maids  were  not  a  bit  like  cats — Miss  Ben- 
nett, for  instance,  whose  absence  from  London 
helped  to  make  the  late  summer  months  drag  so 
heavily.  Such  bright  spots  those  two  days  a  week 
had  been.  For  in  Fortague  Street  she  was  treated 
not  like  a  teaching-machine,  but  like  a  human  being. 
Without  having  asked  a  single  indiscreet  question, 
or,  indeed,  any  question  at  all,  Minna  had  somehow 
managed  to  convey  to  the  girl  the  impression  of  an 
almost  motherly  interest  in  her  person  and  her  do- 
ings. Hitherto  Pattie  had  been  the  only  thing  in 
the  shape  of  a  friend  which  the  wilderness  of  Lon- 
don had  afforded  the  exile.  Even  now  Pattie  still 
kept  her  humble  place,  but  Miss  Bennett  bade  fair 
to  fill  another,  hitherto  perforce  vacant. 

All  the  emptier  the  months  during  which  Lon- 
don, for  all  its  sweltering  life,  presented  some  of 
the  features  of  a  burnt-out  volcano.  The  fever  of 
gaiety,  the  plotting  of  social  intrigue,  the  hot  pur- 
suit of  success,  of  invitations,  of  eligible  husbands, 
had  left  behind  it  a  dryness  and  exhaustion  of  which 
the  dusty  leaves  and  the  closeness  of  imprisoned  air 
seemed  but  the  material  expression.  To  a  stranger's 


196     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

eye  the  streets  might  seem  full ;  to  that  of  the  initi- 
ated they  were  empty,  though  only  in  fashion's 
haunts  were  the  symptoms  glaring — in  lowered 
blinds,  in  areas  once  lively  with  the  clatter  of  plates 
and  the  hiss  of  cooking-pots,  now  animated  only  by 
come  emaciated  cat,  hunting  for  some  possibly  for- 
gotten bone  of  past  banquets.  In  the  park,  'Arriet's 
plumed  hat  took  triumphant  possession  of  what  had 
once  been  the  seats  of  the  Mighty,  while  in  the 
desecrated  Row  indescribable  females  in  home-made 
habits  bumped  along  gleefully  upon  hired  hacks. 

The  weariness  of  it  all  was  enhanced  for  the  ex- 
iles by  the  acuter  anxieties  of  this  almost  breadless 
season.  Harding  had  found  temporary  employ- 
ment as  foreign  correspondent  in  a  shipping  office. 
With  this,  and  with  the  advance  upon  the  lessons 
to  be  resumed  in  autumn,  which  Miss  Bennett 
had  pressed  upon  Irma,  it  had  been  possible  to  get 
through  the  summer — but  not  much  more  than 
possible. 

Another  thing  without  which  it  would  have  been 
difficult  to  get  through  the  summer  was  the  Ora- 
tory; for  Irma's  enforced  idleness  left  her  too  much 
time  to  think,  too  much  leisure  to  worry  over  such 
things  as  her  father's  health,  for  instance.  More 
than  once,  alarmed  by  his  bloodless  face  and  dull 
eyes,  she  had  urged  medical  consultation ;  but  from 
this  Harding  shrunk  obstinately,  having  since  the 
rencontre  in  the  Zoo  become  more  conspicuously 
nervous  regarding  possible  recognition.  Lately, 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     197 

Irmahadgot  into  the  habit  of  carrying  these  private 
worries  to  the  same  spot  where  she  had  for  the  first 
time  in  her  life  consciously  prayed.  It  was  a  strange 
fact  that  contact  with  her  own  faith  had  come  to 
her  only  in  this  country  of  "heretics";  and  yet  not 
strange,  since  convictions,  either  religious  or  politi- 
cal, burn  ever  the  brightest  beneath  the  breath  of 
antagonism.  Here,  in  the  enemy's  country,  she  saw 
fervour  for  the  first  time,  emanating  from  people 
who  in  a  friendlier  atmosphere  would  probably 
have  sunk  to  the  somnolent  laxity  of  her  former  ex- 
periences. At  its  touch  her  own  drooping  faith  put 
out  fresh  blossoms,  and  so  conscious  was  she  of  her 
gain  that  she  got  as  far  as  an  experiment  upon  her 
father.  Shyly  and  shamefacedly,  seeing  him  in  the 
depth  of  one  of  his  despondent  fits,  she  had  sug- 
gested a  visit  to  the  Oratory.  Harding,  though  vis- 
ibly surprised,  made  no  resistance — just  as  little  as 
he  had  resisted  when  at  the  time  of  his  marriage  he 
had,  for  the  "simplification"  of  matters,  been  asked 
to  adopt  Isabella's  faith.  But  the  experiment  was 
a  failure.  So  plainly  did  Irma  read  this  in  the  wan- 
dering eyes  that  the  attempt  was  not  repeated.  That 
flower  of  faith  which  in  her  young  heart  had  so 
joyfully  struck  root  could  find  no  foothold  in  this 
weary  and  wornout  soil,  exhausted  by  a  life  of 
money-making,  sucked  dry  by  a  human  love  that 
verged  on  idolatry.  Where  a  goddess  reigns  su- 
preme there  is  small  room  for  a  god. 

The  long,  empty  time  was  over  now.     Even  be- 


i98     POiMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

fore  the  reappearance  of  the  "Cerberus"  one  or  two 
former  pupils  had  resumed  their  lessons,  Miss  Ben- 
nett among  others.  By  a  certain  blankness  of  feel- 
ing following  upon  that  first  lesson  in  Fortague 
Street,  Irma  became  aware  that  she  must  have  gone 
there  in  a  state  of  subconscious  expectation.  That 
had  been  a  week  back,  and  the  blankness  persisted, 
quite  illogically;  for  that  there  should  be  no  men- 
tion of  the  "diplomat,"  and  no  encounter  in  the 
park,  was  surely  the  natural  and  probable  event. 
Most  likely  he  was  composing  treaties — or  what- 
ever it  was  that  diplomats  composed — at  the  other 
end  of  Europe — if  in  Europe  at  all.  Strange  how 
long  the  coming  winter  seemed  under  the  illumina- 
tion of  this  quite  disconnected  fact.  Even  life  itself 
had  taken  on  a  trick  of  stretching  out  before  her 
mind's  eye  with  the  monotony  of  a  road  that  has  no 
turn — and  with  something  of  its  greyness,  too. 


CHAPTER  II 
THE  "SHOW" 

A  KEEN,  clear  September  day  under  that  pecu- 
liarly northern  sky  which  has  the  pale,  greenish- 
blue  tint  of  a  bird's  egg,  with  the  hum  of  wind  in 
the  pine-trees  on  the  heights  married  to  the  tinkle 
of  water  in  the  depths,  in  a  union  which  will  never 
know  divorce,  and  with  Vincent  Denholm,  minus 
a  necktie,  on  his  back  upon  the  gentian-spangled 
hillside,  taking  deep  breaths  of  the  perfect  air. 

"Yes,  I  am  cured,"  he  was  confiding  to  the  near- 
est pine-tree — a  knowing-looking  veteran  with  flow- 
ing lichen  beard.  "Just  shows  how  much  depends 
on  taking  a  thing  in  time.  Never  felt  cooler  or 
more  reasonable  in  my  life — which  isn't  saying  lit- 
tle, my  hoary  friend,  though  it  may  amuse  you  to 
shake  your  head  at  me.  Nothing  like  air  of  this 
quality,  combined  with  plenty  of  exercise,  for  quash- 
ing anything  in  the  shape  of  fever.  The  distemper 
is  over,  and  the  puppy  is  going  in  future  to  be  a 
healthy  puppy,  and  to  do  its  little  tricks  all  right. 
The  dose  of  sulphur  has  sufficed,  and  I  can  go  back 
safely  to  that  confounded  Foreign  Office,  which 

199 


200     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

hasn't  found  me  a  ticket  yet,  hang  it !  Mercy,  how 
blue  those  gentians  are,  and  how  the  pine-branches 
stream  out  against  the  sky!  If  you  half-shut  your 
eyes  they  don't  look  like  pines  at  all.  Let's  see — 

what  is  it  they  do  look  like  ?" 

******** 

And  a  month  later,  another  day:  a  murky  Octo- 
ber day,  this,  with  "London  grease"  as  plentifully 
spread  upon  the  pavements  as  butter  is,  in  unthrifty 
households,  spread  upon  bread;  and  overhead  a 
grey  vault,  which  did  not  drip  down  in  rain  only 
because  it  was  apparently  still  hesitating  as  to 
whether  it  had  not  better  dissolve  into  fog. 

In  Vincent's  attitude  and  appearance  as  great  a 
contrast.  Far  from  sprawling  in  easy  attire,  he 
stood  to-day  rigidly  upright,  in  garbs  of  ceremony, 
gazing  upon  a  spectacle  which,  though  possibly  less 
soothing,  appealed  to  him  far  more  directly  than 
had  done  the  Norwegian  hillside,  and  the  enjoy- 
ment of  which  he  owed  to  a  certain  royal,  or  semi- 
royal,  foreigner,  who  had  lately  betaken  himself 
from  an  earthly  kingdom  to  a  heavenly  one — or 
so,  at  least,  it  was  politely  taken  for  granted.  The 
august  foreigner  having  been  a  Catholic,  the  tribute 
to  his  memory  necessarily  entailed  the  presence  of 
the  corps  diplomatique  and  of  various  ministerial 
personages  at  a  papistical  place  of  worship — in  this 
case  the  Brampton  Oratory. 

Many  were  the  state  coaches  that  followed  each 
ether  down  Brompton  Road,  and  dense  the  crowd 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     201 

about  the  gates  to  watch  the  descent  of  personages 
resplendent  in  the  uniforms  of  all  countries,  with 
breasts  blazing  with  orders  as  thickly  set  as  the 
flowers  in  a  carpet-bed;  so  over-decorated,  some  of 
them,  that  it  seemed  a  wonder  they  did  not  sink 
under  the  weight  of  their  honours.  In  the  matter 
of  an  object-lesson  upon  the  text  of  the  clothes  mak- 
ing the  man,  nothing  like  the  corps  diplomatique  in 
full  fig  for  giving  it.  Here  it  is  that  an  assembly 
of  what,  without  the  attending  circumstances,  would 
be  a  collection  of  more  or  less  used-up  old  world- 
lings— with  the  pallor  of  bureau-work  fighting  upon 
their  flabby  faces  against  the  marks  of  high  living, 
and  with  the  atmosphere  of  the  Court  more  than 
of  the  bureau,  and  of  the  boudoir  more  than  of  the 
Court  floating  about  their  betressed  and  perfumed 
persons — are  turned  by  suggestion  into  the  very 
symbols  of  power.  And  not  to  the  vulgar  public 
eye  alone.  Vincent  himself,  a  part  of  the  pageant 
— though  but  a  modest  and  quite  unresplendent 
part — was  vividly  conscious  of  the  impression.  In 
those  old  men  with  the  pouched  eyes  and  the  shaky 
legs,  whom  the  gorgeous  footmen  were  so  respect- 
fully assisting  to  alight,  he  was  looking  at  his  own 
future — minus  the  shaky  legs,  which  he  confidently 

hoped  to  escape.  They  were  not  Prince  A ,  or 

the  Marquis  de  B ,  or  the  Duke  of  C—    -  to 

him, as  little  as  to  the  gaping  crowd;  they  were  Ger- 
many, and  France,  and  Russia — they  were  Power 
personified;  and  yet  not  such  power  as  he  hoped 


202     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

some  day  to  personify — since  to  stand  for  the  Brit- 
ish Empire  surely  meant  to  touch  the  pinnacle  of 
human  ambition. 

Even  the  sparkle  of  the  diamonds  upon  the  deco- 
rations, even  the  plumes  upon  the  head-coverings, 
did  their  part.  It  was  with  a  flash  of  that  self-scorn 
which  sometimes  visited  him  that  Vincent  recog- 
nised it.  Call  it  a  "sham"  as  much  as  you  like — it 
did  what  it  was  meant  to  do.  The  solemnity  of 
the  requiem  mass  could  not  but  heighten  the  impres- 
sion. Seldom  had  Vincent  felt  in  a  better  humour 
with  himself  and  his  profession  than  when,  in  the 
wake  of  his  chief,  he  descended  the  Oratory  steps. 

And  then,  abruptly,  right  into  the  middle  of  his 
vision  of  the  future  came  a  shock,  dealt  by  a  pair 
of  eyes  seen  swiftly  in  the  crowd,  and  lost  again, 
and  yet  more  than  merely  seen,  actually  met,  during 
that  one  passing  moment.  No  mistake  possible. 
As  at  the  stroke  of  a  stage  director's  signal,  the 
"show"  sank  out  of  sight  and  a  single  face  usurped 
its  place.  The  first  sensation  had  been  one  of  un- 
reasoning joy,  the  second  of  painful  distaste.  To 
see  her  in  the  closely  packed  crowd,  jostled  by  the 
mob  of  both  sexes,  offended  something  within  him. 
He  did  not  know  whether  it  was  the  pleasure  or  the 
displeasure  which  had  set  a-going  this  strange 
thumping  motion  behind  his  frock-coat.  Which- 
ever it  was,  it  sent  him  home  tongue-tied,  and  with 
his  victorious  humour  considerably  dashed. 

And  this  not  a  month  since  he  had  lain  on  his 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     203 

back  on  the  hillside  and  confided  his  recovery  to 
the  pine-tree,  which,  by  the  by,  had  wagged  its 
beard  at  him,  as  he  now  distinctly  remembered  I 
Disconcerting,  to  say  the  least  of  it. 

Sitting  down  to  think  it  out  over  a  solitary  pipe, 
he  began  to  understand  a  few  things ;  for  instance, 
why,  of  all  the  mountain  flowers,  he  had  never  been 
distinctly  aware  of  any  but  the  gentians,  looking 
at  him  from  out  of  the  grass  like  so  many  blue  eyes ; 
and  why  the  pine-branches  streaming  out  against 
the  sky  had  tantalised  him  with  visions  of  dark 
tresses  unbound  and  floating  in  the  breeze — tresses 
which,  of  course,  he  would  never  see  unbound, 
though  some  luckier  man  might — some  man  who 
would  not  require  to  sacrifice  his  private  feelings 
to  his  career.  For,  of  course,  they  were  going  to 
be  sacrificed.  No  thought  of  surrender  had  yet 
touched  him.  A  hard  fight  was  it  going  to  be,  in- 
stead of  the  mere  skirmish  he  had  fancied?  Well, 
so  much  the  worse,  or  perhaps  so  much  the  better, 
and  how  much  sweeter  the  victory  I 

His  lean  jaw  set  so  grimly  that  he  all  but  bit 
through  the  pipe  between  his  teeth.  But  the  thought 
which  followed  was  coloured  by  a  certain  self-dis- 
trust gathered  from  late  events. 

"All  the  same,  I  wish  that  appointment  wouldn't 
hang  fire  much  longer.  I've  a  notion  that  the  air 
of  any  other  capital  would  suit  me  better  just  now 

than  that  of  London." 

******* 


204     POMP  AND   CIRCUMSTANCE 

"Bob  Kendall?"  said  Lady  Aurelia,  with  a  pro- 
testing uplifting  of  her  yellow  hands;  "whatever 
you  do,  Minna,  my  dear,  leave  me  alone  with  Bob 
Rendall!  What  do  I  care  whether  you've  had  a 
letter  from  him  or  not?  All  about  planting  and 
sowing,  of  course,  and  oxen  and  pigs,  and  just  when 
I'm  thanking  my  stars  on  my  knees  for  getting  away 
from  farmyards  and  fields  and  greenstuff  in  gen- 
eral, and  beginning  to  feel  like  a  human  being 
again,  instead  of  a  dairy-maid.  I  beg  that  you  do 
not  press  Bob  Kendall's  virtues  upon  me.  What- 
ever you  do,  give  me  room  to  fall !" 

Poor  Bob  had  never  stood  high  in  Lady 
Mummy's  graces,  representing  as  he  did  an  aggra- 
vated example  of  that  type  of  degraded  person  who 
"lives  in  the  country  and  keeps  a  trap" — only  that 
in  this  case  the  country  was  the  veldt,  and  the  trap 
presumably  an  ox-waggon.  The  yearly  purgatory 
of  country-house  visits  barely  absolved,  and  revel- 
ling in  the  first  glee  of  recovered  town  sensations, 
the  dowager  could  not  possibly  spare  attention  for 
people  of  this  description.  London  was,  of  course, 
not  as  good  as  St.  Petersburg  or  Paris,  but  it  stood 
miles  above  the  various  "Halls"  and  "Castles"  re- 
cently endured,  and  in  which  it  had  been  her  sad 
lot  to  sit  out  conversations  upon  such  distressingly 
rural  topics  as  the  best  arrangements  of  herbaceous 
borders,  and  even  discussions  upon  the  respective 
merits  of  Plymouth  Rocks  versus  Speckled  Ban- 
tams. 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     205 

"In  the  country,"  as  Lady  Aurelia  was  accus- 
tomed to  define  the  situation,  "it  either  rains,  and 
you  can't  go  out,  and  have  to  sit  in  a  room  full  of 
dogs  and  gardening  catalogues  and  conversation  to 
match,  which  is  bad  enough ;  or  else  it  doesn't  rain, 
and  then  you  are  expected  to  go  out  and  admire  the 
results  of  the  catalogues,  which  is  much  worse." 

"Let  Bob  Kendall  go  to  the — you  needn't  look 
at  me  so  hard,  Cissy;  I'm  not  going  to  swear,  but 
only  to  remark  that  he  had  better  betake  himself 
to  the  kopje  or  the  kraal,  or  whatever  it  is  they  call 
their  things  out  there,  while  we  discuss  more  thrill- 
ing topics — in  first  line  this  morning's  show.  That's 
what  I  want  to  hear  about.  I'll  never  forgive  that 
knee  of  mine  for  keeping  me  out  of  it.  As  if  it 
couldn't  have  reserved  its  pranks  for  one  of  the 
times  in  the  country,  when  one's  bed  is  one's  best 
refuge,  anyway!  But  no,  it  must  trick  me  of  one 
of  the  few  chances  of  seeing  them  all  in  a  bunch 
together!" 

("They,"  as  in  this  household  is  almost  super- 
fluous to  specify,  stood  for  the  corps  diplomatique.) 

"Oh,  it  was  lovely!"  said  Cissy,  with  the  rap- 
turously regretful  sigh  of  the  outsider  who  has  not 
always  been  an  outsider;  for  what  was  even  Vin- 
cent's presence  in  the  pageant  beside  the  glories  of 
former  days  ?  After  having  felt  oneself  an  integral 
ingredient  in  the  European  Concert,  it  is  not  easy 
with  a  good  grace  to  take  a  seat  among  the  ordi- 
nary public. 


206     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

If  Cissy's  sigh  was  not  echoed  by  Chrissie  it  was 
only  because  at  this  moment  she  was  occupied  in 
replenishing  the  cup  of  a  tall  young  man  with  a 
silky  black  moustache  and  shiny  hair  brushed  so 
close  to  his  head  as  almost  to  present  the  appearance 
of  a  neatly  fitting  black  satin  skull-cap.  This  gen- 
tleman, too,  had  formed  part  of  the  morning's 
pageant,  being  the  Conte  Guido  Galliani,  attache 
to  the  Embassy  of  His  Majesty  Victor  Emmanuel. 

Yet  Cissy's  sigh  found  an  echo — in  the  ex-Am- 
bassador, who  had  not  been  able  to  resist  the  temp- 
tation of  lacerating  his  own  feelings  by  contemplat- 
ing the  spectacle  which  to  him  represented  the  past, 
just  as  plainly  as  to  his  son  it  stood  for  the  future. 

"A  fine  sight,  undoubtedly.  In  fact,  I  had  no 
idea  how  fine  a  sight  it  was,"  he  added,  with  his 
winning  smile,  "until  I  saw  it  from  the  outside,  so 
to  say." 

"But  I  want  an  account  from  some  one  who  saw 
it  from  the  inside.  The  Conte — hum,  the  Conte 
seems  pretty  well  occupied;  always  a  pity  to  disturb 
an  entente  cordiale,  I  say.  But  there's  Vincent. 
Where  is  Vincent?  Why  is  the  boy  lurking  in  the 
shadows?  Doesn't  he  know  that  I'm  waiting  for 
his  impressions  of  the  show?  Now,  don't  try  and 
tell  me  that  it  left  you  cold !" 

"No,  it  didn't  leave  me  cold  at  all,  granny;  quite 
the  reverse." 

"Could  so  much  pomp  and  circumstance  leave 
any  but  the  most  hardened  philosopher  cold?" 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     207 

It  might  have  been  by  mere  chance  that  Minna's 
eyes  and  those  of  Vincent  encountered  just  then. 
Yet  it  was  as  a  challenge  that  he  took  the  words, 
and  answered  them  as  such. 

"Outward  form,  if  you  like;  not  a  thing  in  itself, 
but  the  expression  of  a  thing.  So  long  as  there  is 
something  worth  expressing  behind  it  I  don't  see 
how  you  can  logically  call  the  form  empty." 

"Dear  me,  was  I  calling  it  anything?"  asked 
Miss  Bennett,  innocent-eyed. 

"Talking  of  pomp  and  circumstance,"  mused  Sir 
Christian,  lost  in  reminiscences,  "all  this  is  nothing 
to  the  Russian  way  of  doing  things.  Now,  I  recol- 
lect during  my  St.  Petersburg  time " 

"Oh,  Vincent,  do  you  know  what  the  Conte  is 
saying?"  broke  in  Chrissie's  voice  from  the  tea- 
table.  "He  has  just  been  offering  to  stake  his  soul 
— or  his  gold  watch,  I  forget  which — upon  the 
chances  of  separate  Hungarian  representation  with- 
in the  next  five  years." 

"Then  you  mustn't  give  up  your  Hungarian.  By 
the  by,  how  is  it  getting  on?" 

Cissy  had  asked  the  question  before  she  remem- 
bered that  it  might  have  been  better  not  to  ask  it, 
and  looked  apprehensively  towards  her  grand- 
mother, who,  owing  to  the  obstacles  to  mastication 
presented  by  a  slice  of  plum-cake,  had  been  kept 
out  of  the  talk  for  some  moments. 

"You  couldn't  expect  it  to  get  on  in  Norway," 
said  Vincent,  a  trifle  irritably,  as  it  struck  Minna. 


208     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

"And  you  aren't  contemplating  putting  him 
through  an  exam.,  I  hope,"  cut  in  Lady  Aurelia, 
sharply,  having  by  this  time  overcome  the  plum- 
cake.  "I  want  to  hear  more  about  the  show,  Vin- 
cent. Nothing  original  about  the  condolences,  I 
suppose?  Did  the  Marquis  use  his  pocket-hand- 
kerchief? He's  a  dab  hand  at  crocodile  tears.  Any 
bon-mots  a-going?  Next  to  treaties,  there's  noth- 
ing like  mourning  services  for  bon-mots,  I  notice." 

But  if  Lady  Aurelia  had  meant  to  get  away  from 
Hungary,  as  a  possibly  delicate  ground,  her  efforts 
were  not  seconded  by  Minna,  who  just  then  bluntly 
remarked : 

"I've  been  reading  a  book  about  Hungary,  a 
German  book,  called  'Die  Legion  Klapka.'  I  can 
read  German  quite  decently  now,  you  know;  and 
with  a  future  ambassador  to  Budapest  in  my  rela- 
tionship, I  naturally  consider  it  my  duty  to  study 
the  Hungarian  question.  It's  an  awfully  enlight- 
ening book." 

"Ah,  The  Legion  Klapka,'  "  said  the  Conte, 
drawing  near,  with  interest  plainly  piercing  upon 
his  pale,  intelligent  face.  "Yes,  it  is  enlightening, 
is  it  not?  It  geeves  you  so  good  an  idea  of  the 
national  situation." 

But  for  the  occasional  dragging  of  a  vowel — 
vain  attempts  at  the  softening  of  a  barbarous  tongue 
— the  Conte's  English  was  perfect. 

"Yes.  But  it  enlightened  me  on  other  points, 
too:  for  instance,  Bismarck's  prodigious  genius  in 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     209 

the  matter  of  making  fools  of  his  allies,  as  well  as 
mincemeat  of  his  enemies.  The  skill  with  which 
he  egged  on  the  Hungarian  rebels  to  form  their 
illicit  battalion,  and  the  neatness  with  which  he 
dropped  them,  exactly  like  a  hot  potato,  in  the  mo- 
ment he  found  that  he  could  do  without  them,  fills 
me  with  wondering  admiration." 

"Yes,  yes,"  agreed  the  Conte,  eager  and  bright- 
eyed,  "he  was  our  master — no  doubt  of  it." 

"And  yet,  to  look  at  his  face,  you  would  take 
him  to  be  just  a  good,  honest  bulldog." 

"That's  the  beauty  of  it,"  chuckled  Lady  Aurelia. 
"Nothing  like  a  bulldog  face  for  throwing  dust  in 
the  eyes." 

"It  was  a  political  necessity,"  said  Vincent,  who 
had  been  moving  uneasily  on  his  chair. 

"What  was?  To  bribe  soldiers  to  break  their 
oath  of  fealty,  behind  your  adversary's  back,  while 
before  his  face  you  keep  up  all  the  forms  of  legiti- 
mate warfare?  If  those  are  political  necessities, 
then — why,  then,  I'm  rather  glad  I'm  not  in  poli- 
tics," finished  Minna,  with  her  comfortable  laugh. 

"All  is  fair  in  love,  war — and  diplomacy,"  said 
Sir  Christian,  while  an  airy  gesture  of  his  white 
hand  seemed  to  wave  aside  all  such  petty  considera- 
tions. 

"Even  things  which,  called  by  their  names,  would 
be  blackguardism  in  private  life?" 

"Ah,  but  we  don't  call  things  by  their  names," 
smiled  the  Conte,  brilliantly  and  sweetly.  "We 


210     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

would  be  unworthy  of  our  profession  if  we  did 
that.  We  follow  the  evangelical  counsel  of  being 
wily  as  the  serpent,  you  know." 

"And  leave  out  the  other  half  about  the  dove? 
I  see." 

"Really,  Minna,"  laughed  the  gleeful  dowager, 
who  would,  perhaps,  have  been  enjoying  herself 
less  if  she  had  thought  of  observing  Vincent's  face, 
"you're  not  up  to  the  rudiments  of  the  trade.  Why 
not  bring  out  the  copy-book  at  once  and  tell  us  that 
honesty  is  the  best  policy?" 

"You're  forgetting  your  Georges  Sand,  Minna, 
my  dear,"  put  in  Sir  Christian,  with  a  playfully  ad- 
monishing shake  of  his  fluffy  white  head.  "Don't 
you  know  that  'La  franchise  d'un  diplomate  serait 
le  mensonge  d'un  particulier?' ' 

"Excellent!  excellent!"  laughed  the  delighted 
Conte,  showing  a  set  of  teeth  as  delicate  as  those  of 
a  woman  and  as  incisive-looking  as  those  of  a  squir- 
rel. "That's  what  I  always  say;  we're  the  licensed 
liars,  just  as  the  soldiers  are  the  licensed  mur- 
derers." 

"Oh,  Conte,  that  sounds  almost  wicked,"  said 
Chrissie,  with  a  glance  of  not  too  severe  reproof, 
while  Vincent  put  in  sharply : 

"But  our  license  only  extends  to  white  lies." 

"The  colour  of  the  lie  seems  to  me  to  be  entirely 
a  subjective  question.  To  some  people  I  imagine 
that  all  lies  are  always  black." 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     211 

Minna  did  not  look  at  Vincent  as  she  said  it;  but 
nevertheless  he  bit  his  lip,  as  at  the  sting  of  a  shaft. 

"Only  to  the  fools,"  decided  Lady  Aurelia. 
"Why,  it's  the  quintessence  of  the  game  of  life, 
which  is  just  one  big  humbugging  of  other  people, 
as  we  all  know." 

"And  then  it  is  so  amusing,"  put  in  the  Conte,  all 
smiles.  He  called  it  "amioosing,"  which  in  no  way 
obscured  his  meaning. 

"Isn't  it,  just!  Oh,  it's  the  serpents  that  have 
the  best  time  of  it,  depend  upon  it,  and  not  the 
doves.  No  sport  half  so  good  as  leading  people 
about  by  the  nose,  without  their  knowing  that  they 
are  being  led  about,  eh,  Conte?" 

Vincent  got  up  and  walked  to  the  window,  where 
he  stood  drumming  upon  the  panes  with  all  his 
ten  fingers  at  a  time.  His  grandmother  had  a 
knack — quite  unconsciously  practised — of  bringing 
out  the  baser  side  of  his  profession,  which  never 
failed  to  disturb  him;  but  it  had  never  disturbed 
him  quite  so  much  as  to-day.  That  delight  in  in- 
trigue for  intrigue's  sake — almost  making  an  end 
of  what  should  have  been  but  a  means — was  just 
now  peculiarly  irritating,  perhaps  because  since  the 
discovery  of  the  morning  his  nerves  had  not  quite 
recovered  their  balance. 

Into  the  midst  of  his  angry  reflections  broke  his 
father's  musical  laugh. 

"Ha,  hal  I  should  think  it  was  good  sport! 
When  I  remember  the  way  we  led  them  about  by 


212     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

the  nose  at  the  Mareggio  Conference,  during  my 
Roman  time !  Didn't  we  just  make  them  dance  to 
our  pipe — ha,  ha !" 

"And,  better  still,  the  way  you  all  of  you  together 
conspired  to  lead  Europe  about  by  the  nose  at  the 
Vol  au  Vent  Conference.  Just  as  though  you'hadn't 
good  enough  dinners  at  home !" 

Recognising  the  bone  of  contention,  the  ex-Am- 
bassador's face  put  on  its  cloak  of  official  dignity. 

"My  dear  Lady  Aurelia,  I'm  tired  of  explaining 
that " 

"Then  suppose  you  don't  explain,  but  leave  us 
to  form  our  own  conclusions.  That  paper-cutter, 
now,  the  very  one  you're  holding  in  your  hand, 
Conte,  do  you  know  its  origin?  No?  Why,  it's 
Christian's  souvenir  of  the  Valamow  Conference; 
the  only  thing  he  could  secure — inkstands,  penhold- 
ers, and  even  blotting-pads  all  gone  before.  They 
scrambled  for  things  at  the  end,  you  know ;  had  to 
carry  off  relics  of  those  happy  fourteen  weeks; 
though,  personally,  I  should  have  thought  the 
menus  were  relics  enough.  I'll  wager  the  Conte 
doesn't  know  why  a  Russian  meeting-place  was  de 
rlgeur.  Do  you,  Conte?  Just  because  caviare 
doesn't  carry  well,  as  every  gourmand  worth  the 
name  knows;  and  because  several  high  statesmen 
considered  that  they  wouldn't  have  exhausted  the 
experiences  of  life  if  they  went  to  their  graves  with- 
out having  tasted  the  article  fresh.  Upon  my  word, 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     213 

I've  a  mind  to  call  it  'Caviare  Conference,'  for  a 
change." 

In  the  burst  of  laughter  which  followed,  the  out- 
raged ex-Ambassador's  protests  were  drowned,  no 
attention  being  over  for  him — unless,  indeed,  Lady 
Aurelia's  muttered  "Farceur!"  may  possibly  have 
been  directed  to  his  address. 

"How  amioosingl  Oh,  how  amioosing!"  assured 
the  Conte,  with  an  instinctive  laying  of  his  hand 
upon  his  heart?  as  the  most  eloquent  means  of  em- 
phasising his  delight. 

******* 

"I  am  sure  the  Conte  Galliani  will  make  a  charm- 
ing ambassador,"  said  Minna  to  Vincent,  as  to- 
gether they  descended  the  stairs ;  "and  such  a  happy 
one,  too!  Coming  my  way?  No?" 

"No,  I  am  not  coming  your  way,"  said  Vincent, 
with  a  certain  stiffness;  and,  having  ceremoniously 
helped  his  cousin  into  her  hansom,  he  walked  oft 
solitary,  in  quite  a  different  mood  from  the  one  in. 
the  morning.  He  was  not  feeling  at  all  pleased 
with  Minna;  and,  what  is  more,  Minna  knew  it, 
and  yet*  smiled  to  herself  in  the  depths  of  her  han- 
som in  an  obviously  impenitent  fashion. 


CHAPTER  III 

IN  THE  HEART  OF  THE  FOG. 

"ARE  you  sure  you  hadn't  better  give  it  just  an- 
other quarter  of  an  hour?  It  may  lift  yet;  it  often 
does  before  evening." 

"It  has  lifted  a  little  already.  I  am  afraid  that 
quarter  of  an  hour  would  just  encourage  it  to  come 
down  again.  Thank  you,  Miss  Bennett,  but  my 
father  may  be  getting  anxious.  I  promised  to  be 
home  by  daylight,  though  this  isn't  daylight  really." 

It  was  anything  but  daylight.  The  gas,  which 
had  not  been  turned  off  since  morning,  showed  dusk- 
ily brown  window-panes;  and  even  in  the  closed 
space  a  certain  dimness  floated,  giving  a  slightly 
woolly  outline  to  things  in  general.  De  Wet,  per- 
haps aware  of  the  unbecoming  atmosphere,  was 
living  up  to  his  name  by  having  disappeared 
bodily  into  his  basket,  where  he  lay  shivering  under 
an  embroidered  cover. 

"A  hansom?"  suggested  Minna,  but  not  hope- 
fully. 

"Who's  to  find  it?  And  how  is  it  ever  to  find 
Filbert  Gardens  ?  I  was  told  a  story  the  other  day 

214 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     215 

of  a  hansom-driver  who  had  got  off  his  seat,  in  order 
to  lead  his  horse,  and  who  couldn't  find  it  when 
he  was  down,  but  wandered  off  into  the  fog,  leav- 
ing his  unfortunate  fare  stranded.  No,  no — there 
is  nothing  for  it  but  to  grope  one's  way,  and  that 
one  can  only  do  upon  one's  feet,  you  know." 

"I  wish  you  had  not  to  grope  it  alone,  though," 
said  Minna,  with  a  sigh  of  dissatisfaction. 

Irma  smiled  gratefully.  This  was  one  of  the 
moments  that  cheered  her  with  the  sense  of  sym- 
pathy. 

"Thank  you,  Miss  Bennett.  To  hear  you  say 
that  is  almost  as  good  as  having  an  escort.  But 
I'm  getting  quite  used  to  it  now — really,  I  am." 

"Was  it  not  uncomfortable  at  first?" 

"Very,"  said  Irma,  frankly.  "You  see,  abroad 
it's  different,  and  mamma  was  always  so  particular." 

"Is  it  long  since  you  lost  your  mother?" 

"I  have  not  lost  her;  she  is  alive." 

Irma  stopped  short.  It  was  the  first  direct  ques- 
tion which  Miss  Bennett  had  ever  put  to  her,  and 
suddenly  she  realised  that,  of  course,  her  well-wisher 
must  take  it  for  granted  that  she  was  motherless. 
Her  face  both  flushed  and  hardened,  while  she 
spoke  quickly : 

"She  is  in  Austria.  Probably  I  shall  never  see 
her  again.  Yes,  the  fog  is  a  little  better;  I  really 
must  go.  Don't  be  nervous  about  me,  Miss  Ben- 
nett. What  is  to  happen  to  me,  after  all?" 

"I  don't  know.    All  sorts  of  things  happen.    I 


216     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

forget  how  many  people  have  walked  into  canals 
during  this  week." 

"Well,  I'm  not  going  near  the  canals,  and  I  shall 
give  the  Serpentine  a  wide  berth.  Good-bye,  Miss 
Bennett." 

There  was  something  apologetic  in  Minna's  part- 
ing pressure  of  the  hand.  She  could  not  say  what 
had  forced  that  question  to  her  lips.  Evidently  her 
curiosity  on  the  subject  of  this  girl  was  still  far  from 
satisfied. 

Downstairs,  upon  the  door-step,  Irma  stood  for 
a  moment,  like  a  person  summoning  courage  to  take 
a  header  into  water.  This  was  the  fourth  consecu- 
tive day  during  which  London  had  had  to  take  the 
existence  of  the  sky  for  granted,  and  was  beginning 
to  have  serious  doubts  regarding  that  of  the  sun. 
The  degrees  of  gloom  varied,  but  persisted,  occa- 
sionally mocking  the  victims  with  the  faint  resem- 
blance of  a  release,  only  to  smother  them  afresh. 
On  the  whole,  it  was  much  like  living  under  a  huge 
blanket  which  is  held  by  the  four  corners,  and  being 
lowered  and  raised  at  the  sweet  will  of  the  holders. 
Delicate  lungs  wrestled  with  the  atmosphere,  and 
even  eyes  that  were  not  delicate  smarted  under  its 
persistent  sting.  All  day  long  the  gas  and  electric 
lights  made  ineffectual  yellow  and  white  blotches 
upon  the  darkness ;  all  day  long  the  dwellers  by  the 
river  were  wearied  by  the  foghorn's  monotonous 
voice,  which  to  impressionable  minds  always  has  in 
it  something  of  a  cry  of  distress.  That  almost 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     217 

theatrical  appearance  of  fog-bound  London  was 
becoming  habitual.  People  and  things  appeared 
and  vanished  like  something  in  a  murky  transfor- 
mation scene.  On  the  comparatively  deserted  pave- 
ment each  pedestrian  might  think  himself  alone, 
until  another  appeared  beside  him,  standing  up  as 
though  out  of  a  trap-door. 

Irma,  with  the  plan  of  streets  well  before  her 
mind's  eye — since  to  her  body's  eye  they  were  veiled 
— steered  cautiously  for  the  Marble  Arch.  Before 
she  had  reached  it  the  blanket  had  come  down  again 
as  low  as  ever.  It  was  her  ears  as  much  as  her  eyes 
that  warned  her  of  the  closeness  of  Oxford  Street. 
Just  as  she  was  wondering  whether  her  nerve  would 
ever  rise  to  the  ordeal  before  it,  she  ran  against 
something  which  she  took  to  be  a  walking  moun- 
tain, but  which  revealed  itself  as  an  arm  of  the  law, 
and,  in  some  inexplicable  way,  was  spirited  across 
in  safety. 

"The  Marble  Arch?"  she  asked  her  huge  pro- 
tector, rendered  huger  by  the  uncertainty  of  outline. 

He  moved  a  vague  arm  in  a  given  direction,  and 
was  simultaneously  swallowed  back  into  the  fog. 

If  Irma  did  not  miss  the  Marble  Arch  to-day  it 
was  only  because  of  the  familiarity  of  the  ground. 
Nevertheless,  having  reached  it,  she  had  another 
moment  of  hesitation.  Her  usual  line  to  Albert- 
gate  was  shortest,  but  would  not  Park  Lane  be 
safer  in  such  darkness  as  this?  she  asked  herself, 
gazing  into  the  yellow  sea  before  her. 


218     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

"See  you  across,  lidy?" 

Irma  turned  with  a  start.  At  her  elbow  stood 
a  shabby,  stumpy,  grey-bearded  individual,  inquir- 
ingly touching  his  hat.  The  gesture  was  humble 
and  the  grey  beard  confidence-inspiring.  Through 
the  yellow  gloom  it  shone  like  a  label  of  respecta- 
bility. 

"Will  it  be  safe?"  she  asked  doubtfully. 

"Sime  as  Bank  of  England." 

"And  you  are  sure  of  the  way?" 

"Sime  as  my  packet." 

"Very  well.  I  will  give  you  sixpence  for  taking 
me  to  Albert-gate." 

"I'm  your  man,  lidy,"  said  the  old  man  cheerily, 
and  began  to  move  forward.  "Just  you  sticks  to 
me,  and  never  fears!" 

Circumstances  making  propinquity  appear  advis- 
able, it  was  but  natural  that  the  guide  should  keep 
barely  half  a  pace  in  advance  of  the  guided.  After 
a  time,  Irma  noticed  that  his  head  turned  rather  fre- 
quently from  side  to  side,  and  that  he  appeared 
to  be  peering  through  the  gloom,  perhaps  in  order 
to  verify  the  direction. 

"Are  you  sure  we  are  going  right?"  she  once 
asked  anxiously,  to  which  he  replied  as  encourag- 
ingly as  before : 

"Just  you  sticks  to  me  I" 

After  another  five  minutes  he  seemed  to  be  walk- 
ing slower  and  looking  about  him  more  carefully. 
Fearing  to  hurt  his  feelings  by  a  renewed  inquiry, 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     219 

Irma  held  her  tongue,  but  in  her  heart  of  hearts 
began  to  fear  that  he  had  missed  the  way.  Nor 
was  there  any  soul  near  of  whom  guidance  might 
be  obtained.  Since  entering  upon  this  walk  they 
had  not  met  another  person.  The  park  seemed 
as  deserted  as  though  it  had  been  midnight  instead 
of  the  middle  of  the  afternoon. 

All  at  once  the  man  stood  still  and  faced  round. 

"The  first  thing  I've  got  to  say,  lidy,  is  that  if 
yer  scream  I'll  knock  yer  down." 

He  said  it  so  quietly  and  in  so  completely  every- 
day a  manner  that  Irma,  though  she  heard  the 
words,  did  not  at  once  grasp  the  meaning. 

"How  do  you  mean?"  she  asked  mechanically, 
yet  without  conscious  alarm. 

"I  mean  just  that  it  would  be  better  not  to  make 
a  fuss.  Work  has  been  awful  bad  lately,  and  a  pore 
man  like  me  'as  to  tike  wot  comes  'is  way.  That's 
wot  I  be  meanin'." 

For  an  instant  Irma  did  not  feel  her  heart  beat- 
ing; in  the  next  it  seemed  to  be  hammering  all  over 
her  body.  She  had  seen  his  face,  with  the  distorted 
mouth  and  the  glistening  eyes,  fixed  greedily  upon 
her  fur-trimmed  jacket — one  of  the  last  remnants 
of  Vienna  splendour — and  at  the  sight  of  her  own 
monstrous  imprudence  confronted  her  with  a  sen- 
sation compounded  of  rage  and  shame. 

"What  is  it  you  want?"  she  asked,  with  arti- 
ficially steadied  voice. 

"Nothin'  much — only  yer  jacket,  and  yer  purse, 


220     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

and  yer  watch,  and  yer  rings,  and  yer  bracelets,  if 
so  be  ye  'appen  to  'ave  any  about  yer.  No  call  to 
look  frightened,  lidy.  I'm  not  goin'  to  'urt  yer — so 
long,  that's  to  say,  as  yer  makes  no  fuss.  I'll  just 
trouble  yer  to  'and  them  things  over — thinkin*  as 
I  do  that  you'd  prefer  doin'  it  yerself.  But  I've 
no  objection  to  'elpin'  ye,  if  ye're  agreeable.  Only 
keep  bearin'  in  mind  that  at  the  first  hulloa  ye  let 
out  ye'll  find  yersel'  on  yer  back.  No  mortal  good 
starin'  about  yer,  lidy.  There  ain't  many  folks 
takin'  walks  to-day." 

For  it  was  Irma  now  who  turned  her  head  from 
side  to  side,  wildly  trying  to  pierce  the  yellow  cur- 
tain, painfully  lending  an  ear  for  a  possible  ap- 
proach— uselessly,  though,  since  the  throbbing  of 
her  own  pulses  filled  all  her  hearing.  For  all  that 
she  could  see  and  hear,  she  was  alone  with  this  old 
ruffian  in  the  heart  of  the  fog — as  much  at  his 
mercy  as  ever  was  traveller  at  the  hands  of  the 
highwayman  upon  the  loneliest  country  road. 

Plunging  her  hand  into  her  pocket,  she  held  her 
purse  towards  him  as  though  it  had  been  a  ransom. 
He  clutched  it,  and  said  more  roughly  already: 

"The  jacket  now,  and  I'll  trouble  you  to  look 
shairp.  I've  no  mind  to  be  disturbed  over  my 
work." 

Irma  measured  him  with  a  look  of  reluctant  in- 
quiry. Despite  his  grey  beard,  he  did  not  look 
feeble ;  but  neither  was  she  feeble.  For  one  second 
the  thought  of  resistance  shot  through  her.  Then 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     221 

she  caught  sight  of  his  face  again  and  saw  his  fists 
square.  With  trembling  fingers  she  began  to  un- 
button her  jacket,  and  at  once  felt  herself  roughly 
assisted  in  the  task.  In  another  moment  it  had  been 
stripped  from  her  shoulders.  Of  the  muff  the  grey- 
bearded  robber  had  already  possessed  himself. 

"The  watch,  now!" 

"It's  only  silver !"  pleaded  Irma.  The  gold  one 
brought  from  Vienna  had  long  since  gone  to  fill  up 
a  hole  in  the  domestic  budget. 

"  'And  it  out,  I  say." 

She  fumbled  at  the  chain,  almost  blindly;  but 
even  while  her  fingers  jerked  over  the  task  her  head 
flew  up  once  more.  Were  those  her  pulses  mocking 
her,  or  was  that  rhythmic  beat  of  a  step  behind  the 
curtain  ?  It  was  a  glance  into  her  plunderer's  face 
which  gave  her  certainty,  and  with  that  certainty 
courage  flamed  again  through  her  veins. 

With  a  quick  half-step  backwards,  she  raised  her 
voice,  shouting  with  all  the  strength  of  her  young 
lungs;  but  only  once,  for  the  second  "Help!"  was 
already  stifled  by  a  rough  hand  upon  her  mouth. 
But  her  ears  were  not  closed,  and  with  their  help 
she  became  as  plainly  aware  of  the  unmistakable 
approach  of  help  as  of  the  furious  oaths  being  mut- 
tered close  at  hand. 

"Where?  where?  Hold  fast!  I'm  coming!"  a 
man's  voice  came  to  her  from  out  of  the  mist,  and 
the  sound  fired  a  new  sense  of  resistance.  Des- 
perately she  now  struggled,  with  her  hand  closed 


222     POMP  AND   CIRCUMSTANCE 

over  the  watch  which,  with  his  left,  the  man  was 
attempting  to  add  to  the  plunder.  The  thought  of 
biting  the  fingers  which  closed  her  mouth  was  vivid- 
ly present  to  her  mind — but  impossible  because  of 
the  tightness  of  the  pressure.  In  another  moment 
it  was  abruptly  removed ;  another  and  a  more  fear- 
ful oath  sounded  in  her  ear;  another  grab — an  in- 
effectual one — made  at  her  watch ;  a  new  figure,  al- 
most unnaturally  tall,  surged  up  close  at  hand  in 
the  usual  trap-door  fashion,  and  through  what  ap- 
peared to  be  another  trap-door  the  grey-bearded 
robber  vanished.  Trembling  and  gasping,  Irma  let 
herself  go  against  what  presumably  was  a  support- 
ing arm. 

"Gone?    Which  way  did  he  make  off  ?" 

The  rescuer  was  taking  the  deep,  short  breaths 
of  one  who  has  run  hard. 

'Til  catch  him  yet." 

But  with  the  movement  he  made,  Irma's  hold 
upon  the  sleeve  beside  her  tightened. 

"Don't,  don't  leave  me  alone!"  she  implored, 
with  the  frankness  of  terror.  "Let  him  go — never 
mind,  but  I  can't  stay  alone !" 

"All  right;  I'll  stop  here.  Don't  be  frightened, 
Fraulein  Hartmann;  he  sha'n't  touch  you  again." 

Looking  up  into  the  face  bending  above  her, 
Irma  realised  that  it  was  Mr.  Denholm's  arm  to 
which  she  was  clinging.  The  discovery  did  not 
particularly  impress  her.  She  was  too  excited  just 
then  to  be  much  surprised  at  anything. 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     223 

"Thank  Heaven  !"  she  murmured  vaguely.  "You 
came  just  in  time." 

Her  teeth  chattered  between  the  words.  With- 
out knowing  that  he  did  it,  he  laid  one  hand  over 
the  shaking  fingers  still  clutching  his  sleeve.  It 
seemed  the  most  obvious  way  of  quieting  her  dis- 
turbance. 

"Have  I  come  in  time?  It  doesn't  look  like  it. 
How  you  are  shivering!  Good  Lord,  your  jacket 
is  gone  !  Did  that  ruffian " 

For  the  flash  of  a  second  the  idea  of  pursuit  again 
presented  itself  for  consideration,  only  to  be  dis- 
missed as  hopeless. 

"Wait  a  moment,  Fraulein  Hartmann." 

He  disengaged  his  arm  from  her  fingers,  not 
without  a  little  gentle  force,  and  getting  quickly  out 
of  his  overcoat,  held  it  ready  for  her. 

"What  does  that  mean?"  she  asked,  blankly. 

"It  means  that  you  are  to  put  this  on." 

She  looked  from  it  to  him,  and  back  again,  doubt- 
fully. 

"But  I  can't  do  that." 

"You  can,  and  you  must.  It  is  certainly  more 
feasible  than  walking  home  in  that  flimsy  dress." 

"But  you?" 

"I  have  a  warm  coat;  I  will  take  no  harm." 

"But  it  will  look  ridiculous,"  objected  Irma;  and 
the  remark  was  a  most  hopeful  sign  of  returning 
self-command. 

"It  won't  look  anything,  because  nobody  will  see 


224     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

it.  We're  only  shadows  to  each  other  to-day;  and, 
besides,  it's  getting  dark  already.  You  can't  mean 
to  say,  surely,  that  your  vanity  prefers  the  risk  of 
catching  a  certain  cold  to  the  look  of  an  unbecoming 
garment?  Are  you  going  to  keep  me  waiting  much 
longer,  Fraulein  Hartmann?" 

Before  that  tone  of  cool  and  almost  severe  com- 
mand Irma  discovered  herself  to  be  helpless.  With- 
out another  word,  and  with  something  like  a  sigh 
of  comfort,  she  slipped  into  the  coat  still  tepid  from 
contact  with  another  human  body.  Here  was 
warmth  as  well  as  safety.  And  here,  too,  was  much 
more  space  than  she  required,  for  the  collar 
mounted  beyond  her  ears,  and  the  sleeves  descended 
to  her  finger-tips,  while  beyond  each  shoulder  an 
unexplored  cave  seemed  to  bulge  stiffly. 

"Oh,  how  funny  I  must  look!  At  any  rate,  I 
won't  miss  my  muff." 

The  laugh  which  escaped  her  was  like  medicine 
to  her  shaken  nerves. 

"Are  you  sure  you  won't  catch  cold?" 

"Quite  sure.  And  now  I  suppose  we  had  better 
be  moving  on.  I  wonder  in  which  direction  Bromp- 
ton  Road  lies?" 

"Are  you  going  to  Brompton  Road,  too?" 

"I  am.  And  it  would  simplify  matters  if  you 
took  my  arm.  It's  the  only  guaranteed  way  of  not 
losing  sight  of  each  other." 

Irma  obeyed,  still  a  little  dazed,  while  Vincent, 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     225 

for  another  moment,  used  his  eyes  and  ears  tenta- 
tively. 

"We're  not  on  the  Albert-gate  line  at  all;  of 
course,  he  naturally  preferred  greater  seclusion. 
Well,  we  can  but  try  our  luck  and  hope  for  the 
best." 

They  moved  on  cautiously. 

"How  fortunate  that  you  should  have  been  in 
the  park,  too !"  said  Irma,  guiltless  of  after- 
thoughts, and  busy  only  with  the  opportuneness  of 
her  rescue. 

"Most  fortunate.  I  followed  you — I  mean  that 
I  happened  to  be  behind  you  when  you  came  to  the 
Marble  Arch,  and  it  struck  me  that  it  would  be  just 
as  well  to  keep  you  in  my  eye.  So  many  accidents 
are  heard  of  in  this  weather.  But  the  fog  beat  me. 
I  didn't  even  make  out  that  you  had  a  guide.  It 
was  a  frightful  bit  of  imprudence — if  you  will  allow 
me  to  say  so" — came  the  correcting  clause.  "But 
it's  clear  you  don't  know  London  yet." 

"It  was  the  grey  beard  that  did  it.  He  looked 
such  a  respectable  old  man." 

"Old?" 

Vincent  repeated  the  word  with  a  note  of  satis- 
faction. 

"He  was  old,  was  he?" 

"Oh,  quite  old — almost  venerable,  in  fact.  And 
I  daresay  he  was  very  hungry."  Irma's  forgiving 
mood  rather  surprised  herself;  nor  was  it  easy  to 
understand  what  had  become  of  that  angry  rebellion 


226     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

of  a  few  minutes  back,  in  which  she  had  been  ready 
to  use  even  her  teeth. 

"And  did  he — did  he  make  himself  very  ob- 
noxious?" 

"Not  so  very.  He  was  almost  polite;  though 
he  helped  me  out  of  my  jacket  rather  quicker  than 
I  liked." 

She  laughed  again,  and  this  time  Vincent  joined. 

"Did  he  get  anything  beyond  the  jacket?" 

"My  muff  and  my  purse — but  that  will  have 
been  a  disappointment.  I  don't  believe  there  was  a 
whole  shilling  in  it." 

"You  will  have  to  get  a  new  jacket,"  said  Vin- 
cent, thinking  aloud. 

She  sighed,  "Yes,"  though  somehow  not  feeling 
nearly  as  depressed  as  by  rights  she  ought  to  be, 
considering  what  a  really  serious  thing  was  the  pur- 
chase of  a  new  Winter  jacket.  Having  glanced 
at  the  subject,  she  decided  not  to  spoil  the  present 
moment  by  premature  reflection — simultaneously 
becoming  aware  that  there  actually  was  something 
here  susceptible  of  being  spoiled.  That  angry  feel- 
ing which  had  accompanied  the  talk  about  the  ink- 
stand dress  was  to-day  conspicuous  by  its  absence. 
And  what  of  the  distrust  once  felt  of  this  same  man, 
at  whose  mercy  she  knew  herself  to  be  as  absolutely 
as  a  short  time  back  she  had  been  at  that  of  the 
grey-bearded  ruffian?  If  the  recollection  had  come 
near  her  she  would  probably  have  disbelieved  it. 
But  it  did  not  come  near  her.  Without  reasoning 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     227 

and  without  reflection,  she  knew  herself  as  safe  by 
his  side  in  the  heart  of  the  fog  as  she  could  ever 
have  been  by  that  of  her  father  in  the  glare  of 
daylight.  She  was  tasting  the  unwonted  presence 
of  a  protector — a  thing  so  often  missed; 
so  distinctly  yearned  after;  and  so  sweet 
was  the  experience  that  other  things  sank 
away  beside  it.  It  was  a  universal  relaxation  of  a 
will  which  had  done  much  hard  work  within  the 
past  year — of  a  set  of  nerves  strained  beyond  their 
due.  She  was  content  to  walk  on  with  him  thus 
unresistingly  through  darkness  and  solitude,  wher- 
ever he  might  choose  to  lead  her.  Nor  was  she 
aware  of  any  impatience  regarding  the  termination 
of  their  wanderings. 

For,  despite  Vincent's  perfectly  honest  efforts  to 
hit  off  Albert-gate,  it  turned  into  a  desultory  and 
mostly  haphazard  tacking  about  in  the  double- 
shadows  of  fog  and  dusk,  in  the  course  of  which 
they  occasionally  stumbled  over  wires,  occasion- 
ally ran  against  trees,  or,  by  the  want  of  re- 
sistance under  their  feet,  discovered  that  they 
had  left  the  path — all  of  which  accidents  struck 
them  both  entirely  in  the  diverting  and  never  once 
in  the  provoking  sense.  The  scorn  which  on  his 
side,  the  haughtiness  which  on  hers,  had  marked 
their  last  meeting  were  as  things  that  had  never 
been.  Rather,  they  seemed  like  a  pair  of  children 
having  an  adventure,  out  of  which  all  the  alarm  was 


228     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

eliminated  and  nothing  remained  but  the  enjoy- 
ment. 

"It's  rather  like  playing  at  babes  in  the  wood, 
isn't  it?"  laughed  Irma;  "only  without  the  wicked 
uncle." 

"Oh,  but  the  wicked  uncle  was  there — you're  for- 
getting. He's  perhaps  sold  your  jacket  by  this 
time." 

"To  be  sure — I  was  really  forgetting."  Some- 
how that  part  of  the  adventure  seemed  far  away 
already. 

"And  what  happens  if  we  don't  find  that  Gate? 
Will  we  be  locked  out,  or  what?" 

The  question  was  quite  serene.  Even  though 
she  had  wanted,  she  could  not  feel  frightened  any 
longer. 

"We'll  find  it  fast  enough — too  fast,  probably." 
But  the  last  words  did  not  achieve  articulate  pro- 
nunciation. 

So  rare  were  the  shadows  which  slipped  past 
them,  even  in  the  more  frequented  paths  now 
reached,  that  it  was  almost  the  same  as  having 
Hyde  Park  entirely  to  themselves.  From  time  to 
time  they  would  stand  still  and  strain  their  hearing 
for  the  sound  of  traffic,  as  the  only  available  means 
of  guidance ;  and  once,  finding  themselves  suddenly 
on  the  very  edge  of  the  Serpentine,  he  instinctively 
grasped  the  hand  upon  his  arm,  as  though  with  the 
thought  of  shielding  her  from  a  danger. 

A  minute  later  dull  points  of  fire  began  to  prick 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     229 

through  the  gloom.  To  Irma  they  seemed  part  of 
the  decoration  of  the  fairy  tale  in  which  she  had 
been  living  for  the  last  half-hour — though  in  real- 
ity they  were  pointing  to  her  the  way  out  of  the 
fairy  tale,  being  the  lights  of  Knightsbridgc,  strug- 
gling into  sight. 

It  was  rather  silently  that  the  linked  couple 
stepped  out  of  Albert-gate.  With  the  coming  of 
darkness  the  fog  had  lifted  sufficiently  to  let  lamps 
and  lanterns  resume  their  usual  functions,  for  which 
reason  the  night  promised  to  be  ever  so  much  more 
transparent  than  the  day  had  been.  Abruptly  Irma 
was  visited  by  the  acute  consciousness  of  her  strange 
attire. 

"It  seems  to  me  so  horribly  light  here,"  she  com- 
plained, shrinking. 

Upon  which  Vincent,  rather  knowingly: 

"I  know  a  remedy  against  that." 

"Do  you ?    What  is  it  called?" 

"By-ways.  We've  only  got  to  avoid  thorough- 
fares and  to  slink  along  the  worst-lighted  openings 
we  can  find,  of  which,  fortunately,  the  choice  is 
large  in  this,  our  brilliant  metropolis.  Tell  me 
where  you  wish  to  be  landed,  and  I'll  manage,  all 
right." 

"Filbert  Gardens,  off  Cromwell  Road.  But,  Mr. 
Denholm,"  said  Irma,  rather  precipitately,  "you 
needn't  go  further;  really,  I  can  manage  by  myself 
now — I  am  so  used  to  going  about  alone." 

"And  my  overcoat?"  laughed  Vincent. 


230     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

"To  be  sure;  I  had  forgotten." 

"Looks  rather  as  though  you  meant  to  treat  me 
as  you  have  been  treated,  does  it  not?" 

They  laughed  again  together;  upon  which  Irma 
discovered  that  her  hand  was  still  resting  within 
Vincent's  arm,  and  attempted  shyly  to  withdraw  it. 

"What's  that  for?" 

"It  doesn't  seem  necessary  now,  does  it?  I  won't 
lose  you  here." 

"Just  as  you  like,  of  course ;  but  it  strikes  me  that 
if  you  don't  want  the  overcoat  noticed  it  is  better 
to  keep  close." 

He  said  it  in  so  admirable  a  tone  of  detachment 
that  Irma  decided  to  leave  her  hand  where  it  was. 
To  insist  on  the  withdrawal  would  now  have  as- 
sumed a  taint  of  prudishness. 

When  they  had  got  into  the  by-ways  Vincent  ap- 
peared to  be  ruminating,  with  the  result  of  presently 
asking : 

"You  don't  go  about  alone  after  dark,  as  a  rule, 
do  you?" 

"Not  when  I  can  help  it;  but  I  can't  always  do 
that,  you  know." 

The  lantern  under  which  they  passed  just  then 
revealed  a  frown  of  displeasure. 

"And  have  you  never  had  disagreeables — besides 
to-day,  I  mean?" 

Another  lantern  exposed  a  quick  flush. 

"I  don't  let  them  become  disagreeables." 

After  that  the  silences  grew  longer ;  but  the  fairy- 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     231 

tale  atmosphere  seemed  to  have  spread  from  the 
fog-drowned  park  to  these  narrow  streets,  in  which 
even  the  cabbages  exposed  at  the  doors  of  humble 
greengrocers  looked  to  Irma's  eyes  as  though  they 
might  have  been  grown  in  some  witch-garden — 
why,  the  witch  herself  was  occasionally  to  be  caught 
sight  of  behind  a  counter,  framed  in  a  very  cave  of 
greenery — while  the  cod  and  flounders  flabbily 
spread  in  the  windows  of  third-rate  fishmongers 
gleamed  as  mysteriously  under  a  stray  gas-jet  as 
though  they  had  all  been  enchanted  princes  caught 
in  legendary  fishermen's  nets. 

In  time,  by  dint  of  mechanically  given  directions, 
Filbert  Gardens  was  reached. 

They  were  on  the  door-step  already,  and  the  bell 
had  actually  been  rung,  when  Vincent  turned  again 
to  his  companion. 

"I  wish  you  would  promise  me  something." 

Her  eyes  asked  "What?"  though  her  lips  were 
silent. 

"Never  to  be  out  after  dark  alone.  You  don't 
know  London,  but  surely  your  father  ought  to." 

She  did  not  answer — not  because  it  had  occurred 
to  her  that  he  had  no  right  to  demand  any  prom- 
ises, but  because  she  was  honestly  at  a  loss  what  to 
say.  Before  she  had  found  it  the  door  was  opened 
— by  her  father,  in  obvious  agitation. 

"Irma?  Thank  God!  I  have  been  in  such  anx- 
iety ;  it  is  nearly  six  o'clock.  You  are  not  alone  ?" 

"This  is  Mr.  Denholm,  papa ;  he  met  me  in  the 


232     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

park.  I  have  had  an  adventure,  but  nothing  has 
happened  to  me — thanks  to  Mr.  Denholm." 

"Please  come  in,"  said  Harding,  earnestly.  "I 
cannot  thank  you  in  the  street.  What  a  fortunate 
chance!  What  sort  of  adventure,  Irma?  Dear 
me,  child,  what  have  you  got  on?" 

"That's  part  of  the  adventure.  You  shall  hear 
all  about  it;  only  you  must  promise  not  to  laugh  at 
me  when  you  see  me  in  the  light." 

Yet  it  was  Irma  herself  who  laughed  when,  a 
minute  later,  she  saw  herself  in  the  mirror  above 
the  mantelpiece,  with  a  dwarfed  head  growing  out 
of  what  seemed  to  be  a  cross-breed  between  a  board 
and  a  sack. 

In  the  next  moment  she  turned  again  in  sudden 
confusion,  for  in  the  mirror  she  had  caught  sight 
of  Mr.  Denholm  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  mis- 
cellaneous apartment  and  casting  a  rapidly  scruti- 
nising glance  at  its  tell-tale  contrivances.  In  that 
moment  she  wished  that  it  had  been  possible  to  say 
good-bye  to  him  on  the  door-step ;  but  the  overcoat 
alone  would  have  ruled  out  that  idea,  let  alone  a 
decent  sense  of  gratitude.  She  began  to  take  off 
the  offending  garment  in  a  hurry,  Vincent  mean- 
while giving  Harding  a  brief  account  of  the  epi- 
sode in  Hyde  Park.  All  the  time  he  spoke,  and 
without  again  looking  about  him,  he  was  vividly 
aware  of  the  poverty-marked  details  of  the  room, 
as  well  as  of  the  gallant  efforts  that  had  been  made 
to  conquer  them — for  which  reason,  and  though 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     233 

nothing  appeared  in  his  face,  he  spoke  with  a  pang 
at  his  heart. 

"How  fortunate !  What  an  extraordinarily  for- 
tunate chance !"  Harding  repeated  more  than  once; 
a  remark  to  which  Vincent  neither  assented  nor  de- 
murred, refraining  only  from  any  observation  cal- 
culated to  throw  a  doubt  upon  the  purely  accidental 
nature  of  the  occurrence. 

The  invitation  to  sit  down  was  not  accepted,  per- 
haps because  he  had  become  aware  of  a  certain 
embarrassment  about  Fraulein  Hartmann's  man- 
ner, contrasting,  oh,  how  strangely!  with  the  in- 
souciance of  that  wandering  in  the  fog.  It  would 
be  as  well  to  deliver  her  from  his  presence  just  then, 
which  would  simultaneously  liberate  him  from  the 
father's  quite  superfluous  gratitude.  Having  re- 
covered his  overcoat,  he  therefore  took  leave  briefly. 

"And  this  is  all  the  home  she  has!"  he  mused,  as 
he  went.  "And  that  white-haired  wreck  her  only 
protector!" 

His  steps  lagged,  as  though  unwilling  to  leave 
the  precincts  of  the  dingy  "Gardens,"  while  a 
dreamy  warmth  seemed  wrapping  round  spirit  and 
body  alike — the  fault  of  the  overcoat,  perhaps, 
whose  pleasant  glow  made  the  bodily  presence  of 
the  last  wearer  appear  to  persist. 

Almost  at  the  last  house,  he  was  roused  from 
idle  thoughts  by  a  penetrating  and  persistent  "toot," 
and  simultaneously  a  pair  of  brilliant  eyes,  glaring 
through  the  haze  to  which  the  fog  had  melted, 


234     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

turned  the  corner.  It  scarcely  needed  the  well- 
known  panting  sound,  nor  a  whiff  of  the  now  fa- 
miliar scent,  to  announce  the  presence  of  a  motor- 
car. Vincent  looked  at  it  sharply  as  it  leisurely 
passed  him,  having  already  slowed  down.  A  motor- 
car had  an  uncomfortable  place  somewhere  in  his 
memory.  This  was  not  the  identical  vehicle  met  in 
summer,  being  a  closed  brougham ;  but  the  face  seen 
for  a  moment  at  the  window  belonged  to  the  cate- 
gory of  rosy,  round  faces  which  the  one  upon  that 
other  motor  had  likewise  done. 

In  a  fit  of  curiosity  he  looked  over  his  shoulder. 
So  far  as  he  could  calculate,  the  motor-brougham 
had  stopped  before  the  identical  house  which  he 
had  just  left.  A  doubt  on  the  point  being  recog- 
nised as  irritating,  Vincent  found  it  more  satisfac- 
tory to  cross  the  street  and  make  himself  miserable 
by  the  full  assurance.  Having  got  it,  he  made  for 
the  nearest  hansom-stand  and  drove  home,  feeling 
as  though  his  soul  had  suddenly  become  a  shuttle- 
cock which  some  very  happy  feelings  and  some 
very  unhappy  ones  were  recklessly  beating  about 
from  side  to  side. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE    SURRENDER 

Miss  BENNETT  had  just  laid  ready  the  copy- 
book and  the  German  grammar  against  the  im- 
pending lessons,  and  De  Wet,  having  weighed  the 
merits  of  the  hearthrug  versus  those  of  his  basket, 
had  just  decided  in  favour  of  the  latter,  when  the 
door-bell  rang,  peremptorily. 

Minna  glanced  at  the  clock  on  the  mantelpiece. 

"Fraulein  Hartmann  already?  It  wants  twenty 
minutes  to  the  time." 

She  went  to  the  window — a  window  with  real 
glass  panes  in  it,  in  place  of  the  mock  brown  paper 
of  recent  times,  the  fog  having  lifted  some  days 
back — but  the  visitor  had  already  been  admitted. 

A  minute  later  she  turned  at  the  sound  of  the 
opening  door. 

"You,  Vincent?  This  isn't  your  usual  hour.  I 
was  expecting  anybody  but  you." 

"And  wanting  anybody  but  me,  too,  it  would 
seem,  to  judge  from  the  consternation  of  your  face. 
It's  no  use,  Minna;  I  know  this  is  your  room,  but 
I  am  not  going  to  be  turned  out  of  it  this  time." 

235 


236     POMP  AND   CIRCUMSTANCE 

"The  fact  is,"  said  Minna,  with  an  unusual  touch 
of  awkwardness,  "I'm  getting  ready  for  my  Ger- 
man lesson.  In  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour " 

"You  expect  Fraulein  Hartmann — I  know.  But 
there's  plenty  of  time  before  that,  and  I  want  to 
talk  to  you — yes,  you're  a  paragon  in  looks,  from 
the  tip  of  your  nose  to  that  of  your  tail — "  (this 
par  parenthese  to  De  Wet,  planted,  expectantly, 
before  him).  "Are  you  going  to  ask  me  to  sit 
down,  by  the  by,  or  am  I  to  take  that  part  for 
granted?" 

He  had  taken  it  for  granted  already. 

"Does  that  mean  that  you  are  resuming  ordinary 
civility?  I  suppose  you  are  aware  that  you  haven't 
been  near  me  since  the  day  I  ventured  to  express  a 
favourable  opinion  upon  the  Conte  Galliani's 
future." 

"Haven't  I?"  said  Vincent,  abstractedly  caress- 
ing the  toy-terrier,  his  eye  meanwhile  showing  none 
of  the  responding  bellicose  spark  usually  kindled  by 
such  challenges. 

Minna  looked  at  him  closely. 

"What  is  it,  Vincent?  What  have  you  come 
for?  Do  you  want  me  to  do  anything  for  you?" 

"Yes.  I  want  you  to  lend  me  your  drawing- 
room." 

"When?" 

"To-day." 

"For  how  long?" 

"For  half  an  hour." 


237 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  it?" 

"I  am  going  to  propose  to  Fraulein  Hartmann 
in  it." 

Before  the  quietly  spoken  words  Minna  sank 
back  quietly  in  her  chair,  not  like  a  person  having 
received  a  blow,  rather  like  one  yielding  to  the  pres- 
sure of  a  strong  hand  laid  upon  her  chest. 

"What  has  happened,  Vincent?"  she  asked,  low 
and  rather  huskily. 

"All  that  has  happened  is  that  I  have  given  up 
fighting.  I  imagined  I  was  stronger  than  it,  where- 
as it  turns  out  that  it  is  stronger  than  I  am.  I  hon- 
estly believed  that  I  had  left  its  corpse  in  Norway, 
buried  under  the  gentians  and  the  fir-trees,  instead 
of  which  I  discover  that  it's  as  alive  as  ever,  and 
that  the  gentians  and  the  firs  were  part  of  it,  all 
the  time." 

"When  did  you  discover  this?" 

"On  the  day  they  buried  that  royal  old  sinner. 
She  was  in  the  crowd  at  the  church-door,  and  our 
eyes  just  met.  That  was  the  discovery,  but  not  yet 
the  surrender.  You  mustn't  think  me  as  easily 
floored  as  all  that.  I  meant  to  stick  it  out,  and  I 
thought  I  would — till  Tuesday." 

Minna's  eyes  asked  questions,  though  her  lips 
did  not  move.  As  though  incommoded  by  their 
expectant  gaze,  Vincent  got  up,  and,  wandering 
towards  the  fireplace,  stood  there  with  his  elbow 
on  the  mantelpiece,  and  his  hand  shading  his  eyes, 
while  he  spoke  down  into  the  glowing  coals. 


238     POMP  AND   CIRCUMSTANCE 

"That  was  the  last  day  of  the  fog,  you  know. 
I  was  on  my  way  here — not  with  any  idea  of  a 
meeting,  since  I  had  no  clue  to  your  present  ar- 
rangements, but  just  because  I  felt  that  a  bit  of  a 
squabble  with  you  might  be  stimulating.  At  the 
corner  she  passed  me,  not  seeing  me,  though  I  made 
her  out,  right  enough,  fog  and  all.  I  knew  at  once 
that  she  would  be  coming  away  from  here,  and  I 
followed  her.  I  didn't  mean  to  speak  to  her — I 
swear  I  did  not;  but  I  hated  the  idea  of  knowing 
her  alone  on  such  a  day.  I  suppose  I  tried  to  put 
it  down  to  the  account  of  Christian  charity;  any- 
way, I  followed  her,  losing  her  and  recovering  her 
off  and  on  as  far  as  the  Marble  Arch,  and  then 
losing  her  for  what  seemed  like  good.  Still  I 
walked  on,  on  what  I  believed  to  be  the  line  to 
Albert-gate,  but  which,  fortunately,  turned  out  not 
to  be  that,  since  the  ruffian  who  had  undertaken  to 
guide  her  across  had,  of  course,  struck  a  more  re- 
mote path.  Sometimes  I  thought  I  heard  steps  in 
front  of  me,  and  sometimes  I  thought  I  didn't;  and 
at  last — to  cut  a  long  story  short — there  came  a  call 
out  of  the  thick  of  the  fog,  and  I  arrived  just  in 
time  to  see  the  man  making  off  with  her  jacket  and 
purse,  and  to  help  her  to  keep  on  her  feet." 

"Good  God!"  said  Minna,  below  her  breath. 

"That's  what  I  felt  like,  too.  This  is  the  bad 
part  of  the  story;  now  comes  the  good,  for  it  was 
quite  half  an  hour  before  we  found  Albert-gate, 
and  during  that  half-hour  she  held  to  my  arm,  and 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     239 

I  could  almost  feel  her  heart  beating  through  my 
own  overcoat,  which,  of  course,  I  had  made  her 
put  on.  But  she  did  not  seem  frightened,  thank 
Heaven !  and  we  laughed  a  good  deal  over  our 
adventures.  And  then  I  took  her  home,  of  course, 
and  had  to  submit  to  being  thanked  by  the  father; 
and — well,  that's  just  how  it  was,  Minna;  don't 
you  see?" 

"Yes,  Psee,"  said  Minna,  in  that  same  low  voice. 

"Since  I  have  felt  her  holding  on  to  me  like 
that,  and  belonging  to  me,  so  to  say,"  went  on  Vin- 
cent, smiling  down  into  the  grate,  as  though  he 
saw  pictures  in  the  fire,  "I  have  found  out  that  I 
can't  do  without  her.  It's  a  complete  knock-down, 
I  admit  it — perhaps  an  ignominious  one.  I'm  not 
sure  that  there  isn't  a  touch  of  the  black  arts  in  it. 
I'm  positive,  anyway,  that  that  overcoat  of  mine  is 
bewitched.  I  can't  put  it  on  now  without  thinking 
— all  sorts  of  things.  Upon  my  word,  I  do  believe 
it's  that  confounded  garment  that  has  done  it  alll" 
laughed  Vincent,  with  a  touch  of  entirely  superficial 
anger. 

"And  you  have  quite  decided  to  ask  her  to  marry 
you?" 

Minna  spoke  with  her  face  bent  over  De  Wet, 
now  nestling  upon  her  lap.  It  was  she  who  now 
appeared  to  be  inconvenienced  by  the  meeting  of 
the  eyes,  not  being  absolutely  certain  of  what  might 
be  written  in  her  own.  Of  course,  she  had  always 
known  that  something  like  this  would  come  some 


24o     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

day — had  even  wanted  it  to  come ;  but  even  to  such 
clear-sighted  people  as  Minna  it  is  always  difficult 
to  know  in  advance  exactly  how  much  a  thing  will 
hurt. 

"Would  I  be  likely  to  be  making  this  exhibition 
of  myself  if  I  had  not  decided?" 

"But  your  career?" 

He  laughed  derisively. 

"What  miserable  duplicity  is  this?  As  if  you 
were  not  capable  of  seeing  my  career  go  to  the 
dogs,  without  turning  a  hair!  I  dare  you  to  look 
me  in  the  face  and  deny  it !" 

Apparently  Minna  still  felt  some  difficulty  about 
looking  him  in  the  face,  but  she  had  not  yet  done 
with  an  elaborate  resettlement  of  the  cherry-col- 
oured ribbon-bow  which  to-day  enhanced  the  toy- 
terrier's  charms. 

"It  isn't  duplicity;  it  is " 

"A  sense  of  responsibility  towards  the  family? 
I  know.  But  make  your  mind  easy — the  career  is 
all  right.  I've  thought  it  all  out — been  doing  noth- 
ing else  since  Tuesday,  in  fact.  It's  only  one  item 
that  I  am  striking  out  of  the  programme — the  one 
granny  calls  'the  right  sort  of  marriage,'  but 
which — since  Tuesday — seems  to  me  the  wrong 
sort.  The  programme  itself  stands  upright.  Con- 
nexions are  good  things,  of  course;  but  I'll  get  to 
the  high  places  without  them — trust  me  for  that! 
It  only  means  a  rather  harder  fight,  and  I  like  fight- 
ing. I'll  do  it,  Minna ;  see  if  I  don't !" 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     241 

He  looked,  as  he  said  it,  magnificently  obstinate 
enough  to  do  it,  having  paced  round  from  the  fire- 
place now,  and  standing  there  with  squared  shoul- 
ders and  jaw,  and  hands  which  seemed  to  have 
mechanically  clenched  in  the  depths  of  his  pockets. 

"Besides,"  argued  Vincent,  with  that  sort  of  vi- 
vacity which  makes  for  self-conviction — "it  isn't 
nearly  so  mad  as  it  looks.  However  obscure  her 
family  may  be,  there  is  absolutely  nothing  to  be 
objected  to  her  person.  She  would  not  only  shine, 
she  would  reign  in  any  drawing-room.  Can  you 
imagine  any  more  perfect  impersonification  of  a 
future  ambassadress?" 

His  eyes  challenged  Minna  with  the  question. 

"I  am  not  saying  that  I  can.  No,  there  is  no 
objection  to  her  person,  but,  Vincent,  there  may  be 
other  things." 

Minna  spoke  with  evident  hesitation. 

"I  am  not  sure  that  her  mother  is  not  under  a 
cloud.  It  was  only  the  other  day  that  I  discovered 
the  existence  of  the  mother;  and  Fraulein  Hart- 
mann  seemed  distressed  in  mentioning  her — said 
she  would  probably  never  see  her  again.  Her  par- 
ents seem  to  be  permanently  separated.  I  shouldn't 
mention  it  if  I  did  not  think  that  you  should  do 
with  open  eyes  whatever  you  do." 

Vincent  made  the  impatient  gesture  of  one  who 
waves  something  tangible  but  trifling  to  one  side. 

"Bother  the  cloud !  It's  not  the  mother  I  want 
to  marry — it's  the  daughter.  You're  as  well  aware 


242     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

as  I  am  that  these  sorts  of  clouds  are  not  unheard-of 
in  the  most  exalted  circles.  Conjugal  differences 
in  the  older  generations  could  not  possibly  hamper 
the  'career.'  Why,  even  in  our  own  persons  such 
things  are  almost  regu,  so  long  as  they  are  cor- 
rectly managed.  No,  Minna,  it's  no  use  throwing 
little  sticks  in  my  way.  I've  a  vast  opinion  of  your 
judgment,  as  you  know;  but  on  this  occasion  I  did 
not  come  to  ask  for  advice,  but  to  state  an  intention. 
I  mean  to  marry  Fraulein  Hartmann — if  she  will 
have  me,  of  course."  The  last  words  were  ob- 
viously an  afterthought. 

"And  have  you  any  reason  to  suppose  that  she 
will  have  you?" 

Vincent  gazed  back  at  his  cousin,  haughtily  sur- 
prised. It  was  clear  that  the  contingency  sug- 
gested had  not  been  seriously  considered.  With 
the  arrival  at  his  own  rather  tremendous  resolution 
the  matter  had  appeared  to  him  to  be  clinched. 
In  the  midst  of  her  own  trouble  Minna  could  not 
suppress  a  passing  smile,  so  clearly  visible  to  her 
mind's  eye  was  the  "swelled  head"  at  that  moment. 

"Well,  we'll  soon  see  about  that.  Even  if  she 
likes  me  ever  so  little,  it  isn't  likely,  is  it,  that  she 
would  say  'No?'  And  she  did  not  seem  to  dislike 
me  the  other  day." 

"And  have  you  thought  of  what  granny  will 
do  to  me  if  she  hears  that  I  have  been  instru- 
mental  " 

"You  haven't  been  instrumental.    Whether  here 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     243 

or  in  another  place,  I  meant  to  do  it — only  I  think 
it  would  be  better  here.  I  gathered  from  her  talk 
the  other  day  that  she  would  be  here  to-day,  and 
that's  why  I  am  here.  In  their  lodgings — such  aw- 
ful lodgings,  Minna — it  would  be  much  more  awk- 
ward— for  her;  and  I  couldn't  be  sure  of  finding 
her  alone,  since  the  sitting-room  seems  to  be  the  old 
man's  bedroom  as  well.  I'm  haunted  by  the  pic- 
ture of  her  in  that  horrible  Filbert  Gardens — 
makes  me  think  of  a  jewel  in  a  rubbish-heap.  And 
she's  the  sort  of  woman  who  needs  surroundings — 
who  is  sure  to  suffer  from  the  want  of  them.  That's 
why  I  have  asked  for  the  loan  of  your  room.  If 
you  say  'No*'  I'll  do  the  thing,  all  the  same,  of 
course,  only  it  will  be  in  a  more  uncomfortable  and 
perhaps  in  a  more  unsuitable  manner." 

The  eyes  of  the  cousins  met  with  a  start,  for 
just  then  the  door-bell  rang.  Then,  without  a 
word,  Minna  rose  and  went  quickly  towards  the 
door. 

"It's  better  than  making  an  excuse  later,"  she 
whispered,  as  she  passed  him. 

He  snatched  at  her  hand  and  kissed  it,  serenely 
unaware  of  his  cruelty. 

"Thank  you,  Minna — thank  you !" 

She  smiled,  not  quite  as  calmly  as  she  would  have 
wished,  and  escaped  upstairs. 

She  could  not  remember  his  ever  having  kissed 
her  hand  before,  though  she  had  often  seen  him 
kiss  that  of  his  grandmother. 


244     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

"I  suppose  it  is  about  time  to  begin  cherishing 
grandmotherly  feelings,"  she  half-laughed,  while 
dashing  her  hand  across  her  eyes. 

There  was  no  fire  in  her  bedroom,  and  mechani- 
cally she  took  up  a  shawl.  The  mounting  steps, 
the  opening  and  closing  door,  the  descending  steps 
of  Wilson — all  was  plainly  audible  in  the  small, 
thin-walled  house.  Trembling  a  little,  partly  with 
cold,  Minna  sat  down,  with  closed  eyes,  behind 
which  the  scene  being  enacted  under  her  feet,  and 
of  which  even  the  tones  reached  her  in  a  faint  mur- 
mur, began  to  picture  itself  against  her  will.  It 
was  one  of  the  moments  in  which  her  sense  of  hu- 
mour came  victoriously  to  her  aid. 

"This  is  being  left  out  in  the  cold,  with  a  ven- 
geance!" she  laughed,  pulling  her  shawl  about  her. 
"Was  ever  woman  before  turned  out  of  her  own 
drawing-room  for  exactly  this  purpose,  I  wonder?" 

"I  will  give  him  half  an  hour  by  the  clock,"  she 
had  begun  by  saying.  But  the  half-hour  was  far 
from  past  when  the  drawing-room  door  opened 
again  and  quick  steps  descended — not  Vincent's 
steps.  That  could  only  mean  that  he  was  alone  in 
the  drawing-room,  and  possibly  in  need  of  her. 

Instantly  Minna  became  aware  of  nothing  but 
alarm  on  his  account.  Flinging  off  the  shawl,  she 
hurried  down. 

Vincent,  with  his  back  to  the  room  and  his  hands 
in  his  pockets,  was  staring  hard  from  the  window. 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     245 

"Alone,  Vincent?"  asked  Minna,  from  the  door- 
way. 

"Yes,  alone,"  he  said,  with  an  excellent  show  of 
coolness.  "And,  oh,  by  the  way,  Fraulein  Hart- 
rnann  said  she  hoped  you  would  excuse  her  to-day; 
she  did  not  feel  quite  up  to  the  lesson." 

"That  means?" 

"That  means  that  she  won't  have  me."  He 
turned  now,  and,  seeing  his  face,  Minna  knew  the 
coolness,  for  all  its  excellent  show,  to  be  but  a  hol- 
low sham.  She  went  close  up  to  him  and  took  his 
hand. 

"Vincent,  I  am  sorry.  I  wish  I  could  have  done 
something." 

Her  voice  shook  with  earnestness.  To  see  him 
suffer  was  so  much  worse  than  suffering  herself. 
But,  besides  the  wounded  look,  there  was  something 
else  upon  his  face — a  cloud  of  perplexity  which 
almost  overshadowed  the  pain. 

At  the  sound  of  her  voice,  the  touch  of  her  hand, 
the  sham  coolness  wavered.  She  could  see  him 
taking  his  underlip  between  his  teeth  in  order  to 
steady  it. 

"Then  you  were  mistaken,  after  all,  in  supposing 
that  she  cared  for  you  ?" 

A  puzzled  frown  dug  a  line  between  his  brows. 

"That  is  the  strange  part  of  it,  Minna.  I  don't 
believe  even  now  that  I  was  mistaken.  I  know 
you  think  me  inordinately  conceited;  but,  upon  my 
soul  and  honour,  I  believe,  after  to-day,  that  I  am 


246     POME  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

— well,  not  indifferent  to  her.  I  don't  believe  she 
would  have  been  so  upset,  nor  have  refused  me  so 
vehemently,  if  it  were  so." 

"Then  what  reason  did  she  give?" 

"None.  Simply  that  she  would  not  have  me. 
I  have  a  notion  that  there  is  some  obstacle  in  the 
way." 

"What  sort  of  obstacle?" 

"A  very  tangible  one,"  said  Vincent,  with  bit- 
terly contracted  lips,  "nothing  less  than  a  motor- 


car." 


"What  on  earth  do  you  mean?" 

"I  scarcely  know  myself,  but  I  have  my  suspi- 
cions. That  time  in  summer,  when  I  burst  in  here, 
you  perhaps  remember  some  talk  about  a  motor  in 
which  I  had  seen  Fraulein  Hartmann  ?  It  was  that 
meeting  and  the  state  of  mind  it  disclosed  in  myself 
which  sent  me  off  to  Norway.  Well,  on  Tuesday, 
when  coming  away  from  Filbert  Gardens,  I  met 
the  same  motor — no,  not  the  identical  vehicle,  but 
one  with  the  same  man  inside  it — and  I  saw  him 
enter  the  house  I  had  just  left.  That  man  is  called 
Potts,  and  Potts  &  Co.  are  about  the  biggest 
motor  manufacturers  in  the  United  Kingdom,  as 
I  gathered  from  some  talk  in  the  club  the  other 
day.  This  man — the  junior  partner — is  a  bache- 
lor. Do  you  follow  me  ?" 

"Of  course  I  do.    But  if  she  cares  for  you?" 

"She  may  care  for  money  more.    I'm  in  no  dan- 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     247 

ger  of  starvation,  of  course,  but  compared  to  Potts 
I'm  a  beggar." 

Minna's  eyes  kindled  fiercely. 

"And  you  could  still  desire  her,  knowing  her 
mercenary?" 

"No.  But  I  do  not  know  her  mercenary  yet. 
She  may  be  sacrificing  herself  for  her  father's  sake. 
Supposing  she  has  accepted  him  already,  and  feels 
herself  bound?" 

"I  see.  But  somehow  I  find  it  difficult  to  think 
of  her  selling  herself,  even  for  her  father." 

"So  do  I.  And  that's  why  I  think — no,  I  don't 
know  what  to  think" — broke  off  Vincent,  flinging 
back  to  the  window. 

Minna  sat  down  and  reflected.  She  was  almost 
as  puzzled  as  Vincent,  and  that  Vincent  was  yet 
more  puzzled  than  wounded  was  clear  from  his 
unexpected  attitude  under  the  repulse.  If  that  re- 
pulse had  been  ascribed  to  indifference,  his  amour 
propre  would  have  been  smarting  much  more  ob- 
viously. 

"Vincent,"  said  Minna,  after  a  minute. 

"Well?" 

"Would  it  do  you  any  good  to  get  light  upon 
the  situation?" 

"Of  course  it  would;  but  that's  impossible." 

"I  don't  think  it  is.  Lately  I  have  got  pretty 
intimate  with  the  girl,  and  I  have  been  such  a  model 
of  discretion  that  I  think  I  can  allow  myself  a  little 
indiscretion  for  a  change.  I  believe  I  could  find 


248     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

out  about  that  motor — I  mean  whether  it's  really 
that  that's  in  the  way.  Do  you  authorise  me  to 
do  so?  I  should  not  bring  you  in  at  all,  of  course; 
it  would  be  a  quite  independent  inquiry." 

Vincent  turned  impulsively  from  the  window. 

"Ah,  Minna,  I  always  said  you  were  a  brick  I 
If  you  could  manage  to  do  that " 

But  Minna,  with  a  short  laugh,  put  her  hand  be- 
hind her  back,  almost  as  though  she  were  afraid 
of  its  being  saluted  for  the  second  time  to-day. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  "BOUDOIR  HERALD" 

THE  line  to  Albert-gate  presented  to-day  no  dif- 
ficulties, which  was  fortunate,  for  Irma,  flying  from 
Fortague  Street  as  though  from  a  deadly  peril,  had 
no  attention  for  the  details  of  her  surroundings. 
Her  body  might  be  in  Hyde  Park;  her  spirit  was 
still  in  the  little  box-like  drawing-room  between 
whose  four  walls  Mr.  Denholm  had  just  asked  her 
to  become  his  wife,  and  been  told  with  a  vehemence 
into  which  surprise  had  startled  her  that  this  could 
never  be. 

For,  despite  the  episode  of  Tuesday,  the  surprise 
had  been  great.  The  tete-a-tete  in  the  fog  was  a 
thing  by  itself  which  could  have  no  bearing  upon 
the  morrow — so  it  had  seemed  to  her.  It  had  been 
too  like  the  fairy-tale  prince  arriving  just  in  time 
to  rescue  the  princess  from  the  dragon  or  the  ogre 
to  justify  any  expectation  of  a  sequel  in  real  life. 
And,  lo !  to-day  the  prince  had  in  sober  earnest,  and 
in  broad  daylight,  offered  her  his  person  and  his 
name.  She  would  not  have  been  a  woman  if  her 
heart  had  not  bounded  with  the  pride  of  the 

249 


250     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

thought,  though  at  the  same  moment  that  same 
heart  contracted  with  the  pain  of  renunciation.  That 
the  man  whom  she  had  seen  a  few  weeks  back  with 
the  reflected  glory  of  a  great  and  significant  cere- 
mony upon  his  person,  while  she  stood  humbly 
among  the  crowd,  should  not  think  himself  above 
stooping  towards  her  and  drawing  her  from  her 
lowly  place  to  his  side,  filled  her  with  a  great  aston- 
ishment. That  moment  at  the  church  door  had 
been  for  her,  too,  as  well  as  for  Vincent,  loaded 
with  revelations,  though  of  a  different  category. 
Until  then  his  professional  life  had  scarcely  ex- 
isted for  her,  diplomats  being  to  her  an  unknown 
quantity  which  she  had  never  had  occasion  nor  need 
to  investigate.  That  they  represented  countries, 
and  were  supposed  to  keep  other  countries  in  good 
humour,  she  knew  in  a  general  sort  of  way,  but 
nothing  more.  Into  the  financial  circle  in  which 
her  parents  moved  not  even  an  attache  had  ever 
strayed;  Vienna  society  being  almost  as  strictly 
classified  as  Chinese  castes.  The  sight  at  the  Ora- 
tory door  had  opened  new  horizons.  Upon  her  as 
much  as  upon  any  other  atom  of  the  gaping  crowd, 
the  footmen  and  the  state-coaches,  the  uniforms  and 
the  decorations  had  done  their  work.  And  when 
in  the  midst  of  the  pageant  and  part  of  it  she  had 
recognised  her  quondam  Hungarian  pupil,  a  sharp 
mixture  of  two  feelings  had  been  the  result;  joy  at 
seeing  the  man  whom  she  had  been  thinking  of  as 
translated  to  distant  climes  still  present  in  her  own 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     251 

world,  and  pain — none  the  less  real  for  being  un- 
acknowledged— at  realising  the  gulf  which  sepa- 
rated them. 

That  he  did  not  look  upon  the  gulf  as  unbridge- 
able had  been  proved  to-day.  But  she  knew  better; 
knew  enough,  at  any  rate,  to  realise  that  this  was 
not  the  only  possible  sort  of  marriage  for  her — 
the  one  in  which  her  father  could  find  a  place.  In 
so  worldly  an  existence  as  Mr.  Denholm's  must 
necessarily  be — and  apparently  so  public  a  one — 
that  quiet  nook  in  which  the  stricken  man  could  end 
his  days,  unmolested  and  untroubled,  could  ever  be 
forthcoming.  Hence  her  instant  and  instinctive  re- 
jection of  Denholm's  suit,  without  so  much  as  a  halt 
for  the  consultation  of  her  own  feelings.  At  best 
it  could  be  but  an  empty  ceremony,  seeing  that  they 
must  not  be  allowed  to  fall  into  the  balance.  That 
would  be  a  disloyalty  to  the  task  undertaken,  and 
she  could  be  anything  except  disloyal. 

With  tight  looking  lips  and  head  held  even 
higher  than  its  wont,  Irma  went  swiftly  on  her  way. 
If  to-day  she  had  at  last  sounded  the  depth  of  her 
own  sacrifice  and  understood  what  it  was  that  she 
had  undertaken  when  she  had  chained  her  life  to 
that  of  the  defrauder,  there  was  nothing  in  her  face 
to  show  it.  If  anything,  it  had  but  tightened  her 
grasp  upon  her  resolution. 

With  the  thought  of  her  father  came  the  thought 
of  the  necessary  concealment.  To  keep  him  in  igno- 
rance of  the  latest  episode  was  of  primary  impor- 


252     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

tance.  She  had  seen  him  so  deeply  disturbed  about 
that  other  offer  of  marriage  that  she  shrank  from 
repeating  the  experience;  the  more  so  as  she  was 
not  certain  of  being  able  to  reassure  him  here  in  the 
way  she  had  been  able  to  reassure  him  there.  He 
might  catch  a  glimpse  of  a  sacrifice — though  even 
to  herself  she  had  not  explicitly  admitted  that  the 
sacrifice  was  there — and  that  must  not  be.  In  order 
that  it  should  not  be  it  would  be  necessary  to  show 
a  particularly  bright  face  this  evening,  and  to  talk 
of  as  many  unessential  subjects  as  possible,  for  fear 
of  essential  ones  coming  up. 

With  this  idea  in  her  mind  Irma  stopped  in 
BromptonRoad,in  order  to  spend  three-pence  upon 
chrysanthemums  and  another  three-pence  on  one  of 
those  society  papers  in  whose  columns  she  occasion- 
ally recreated  herself  by  following  the  pranks  of  the 
upper  ten  thousand.  The  lightly  dished  scraps  of 
elegant  gossip  served  by  the  "Boudoir  Herald" 
were  a  distinct  aid  to  conversation. 

The  room  was  still  deserted  when  she  reached 
it ;  and  having  flung  a  few  drops  of  brightness  upon 
its  dinginess,  by  means  of  the  chrysanthemums, 
Irma  settled  down  to  the  "Boudoir  Herald"  with  a 
dogged  attention  which  strove  to  exclude  all  private 
and  personal  thoughts,  but  did  not  entirely  succeed. 
Despite  her  strained  will,  a  face  seen  recently  came 
between  her  and  the  printed  paragraphs — a  man's 
face  with  astonishment  and  pain  written  upon  its 
clear-cut  features,  and  with  proud  reproach  looking 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     253 

at  her  from  out  of  the  luminous  brown  eyes.  With 
such  words  as:  "Is  this  your  final  decision?"  or: 
"Will  you  not  give  me  a  little  hope,  if  nothing 
else?"  ringing  in  her  ears,  it  was  difficult  to  feel 
vividly  interested  in  the  fact  that  Lord  and  Lady 
Branchmaine  had  been  entertaining  the  hugest 
shooting-party  ever  known  at  Branchmaine  Castle, 
or  that  the  prowess  of  a  certain  young  lady  not 
explicitly  named,  but  referred  to  playfully — and  for 
the  initiated  of  course  transparently — as  "the 
golden-locked  Diana"  had  apparently  brought  to 
her  feet  one  of  the  biggest  partis  of  the  season. 
"Run  her  fox  to  earth,  and  secured  a  brush  of  solid 
gold,"  was  the  way  the  "Boudoir  Herald"  put  it. 
Neither  the  pretty  chats  upon  the  latest  craze  in 
table-decoration,  nor  the  more  serious  articles — as 
became  a  serious  subject — upon  winter  fashions 
were  able  to  hold  Irma's  interest  to-day.  But  pres- 
ently, right  through  the  mists  of  her  inattention,  a 
heading  caught  her  eye : 

"The  latest  diplomatic  on  dit" 

Instantly  the  wandering  thoughts  concentrated. 
Lately,  and  more  especially  since  the  sight  at  the 
Oratory  gates,  anything  in  which  the  words  "diplo- 
matic" or  "diplomacy"  figured  was  sure  of  her  at- 
tention. Already  she  had  become  an  expert  in  pick- 
ing them  out  of  newspaper  columns.  It  was  a  way 
of  completing  the  impression  then  gained,  of  en- 
lightening her  own  profound  ignorance  on  the  sub- 
ject of  what  was  apparently  so  dazzling  a  career. 


254     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

Within  the  last  weeks  she  had  learnt  somediing 
about  the  presenting  of  diplomatic  "notes,"  and  a 
good  deal  about  the  brilliancy  of  ambassadorial  en- 
tertainments. It  was  unavoidable  that  she  should 
now  pounce  upon  the  only  paragraph  which  prom- 
ised interest. 

It  proved  more  interesting  even  than  she  had 
surmised.  Here  the  "Boudoir  Herald"  undertook, 
with  many  winks  and  shrugs — to  be  read  between 
the  lines — to  confide  to  its  readers  the  real  reason 
of  an  abrupt  change  recently  made  by  a  certain 
Continental  country  at  an  important  diplomatic  post 
— for  the  "Herald"  was  broadly  international  in  its 
collection  of  gossip.  The  noble  Prince,  pictur- 
esquely described  as  the  representative  of  "the  home 
of  the  torreador  and  the  mantilla,"  who  had  lately 
been  brusquely  removed  from  a  capital  which,  even 
to  Irma's  uninstructed  eyes,  clearly  stood  for 
Vienna,  was  not  suffering  because  of  any  blunder  of 
his  own — or  rather  yes,  because  of  the  chief  blunder 
of  his  life,  which  he  had  committed  when  he  se- 
lected his  second  wife.  There  was  not  a  word  to  be 
said  against  the  lady's  conduct,  nor  her  education, 
but  a  good  deal  against  her  origin,  at  least  by  such 
connoisseurs  of  pedigrees  as  are  Austrian  aristo- 
crats. Other  lesser  Courts  had  accepted  her  with- 
out inquiry — swallowing  her  with  their  eyes  shut, 
so  to  say,  but  not  so  Vienna.  It  was  bad  enough 
that  the  Senora  should  have  been  of  bourgeois  ori- 
gin, as  the  herd  of  old  Qrafinnen  infallibly  nosed 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     255 

out,  but  when  it  transpired  that  she  had  actually 
trodden  the  boards,  a  miniature  revolution  broke 
out  in  every  Vienna  drawing-room.  That  they,  the 
wearers  of  seven  and  of  nine-pointed  crowns  and 
possessors  of  family  trees  growing  into  the  sky, 
should  be  expected  to  pay  the  highest  marks  of 
honour' to' a  person  once  having  been  the  servant  of 
the  public,  cela  depassait  les  homes.  It  was  all  very 
well  to  talk  of  the  impersonality  of  an  ambassador; 
against  the  theory  there  was  nothing  to  be  said,  but 
in  practice — no,  in  practice,  it  did  not  work — at 
any  rate  not  in  Vienna.  The  social  situation, 
strained  for  some  time  past,  had  reached  its  climax 
at  a  Court  reception,  during  which  the  unlucky 
Senora  had  upset  a  glass  of  water  over  the  velvet 
robes  of  a  particularly  blue-blooded  old  Grafin,  and 
having  excused  herself  on  the  score  of  "nervous- 
ness," the  old  Grafin,  losing  her  temper,  had 
snapped  back:  "You,  nervous?  Why,  I  thought 
you  were  used  to  public  appearances !" 

By  the  time  the  bon-mot  had  flown  round  Vienna 
society  it  was  thought  time  to  withdraw  the  Prince 
from  his  post;  and  no  other  suitable  one  being  free 
at  the  moment,  it  seemed  likely  that  the  eminent 
diplomat  would  for  the  present  be  placed  a  dispo- 
sition. 

Down  to  the  last  word  of  the  paragraph  Irma 
read  attentively,  and,  having  finished  it,  let  the  pa- 
per sink  onto  her  lap  while  she  reflected.  There 
was  some  food  for  thought,  and  also  something  a 


256     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

little  perplexing  about  the  state  of  affairs  here  re- 
vealed. Further  enlightenment  would  be  welcome. 
Perhaps  her  father  could  give  it.  She  began  to 
await  his  return  with  a  new  impatience. 

When  at  last  he  arrived,  dead  tired,  from  the 
distant  shipping  office  at  which  he  still  worked  as 
correspondent,  there  were  first  his  comforts  to  be 
seen  to,  also  there  were  certain  roundabout  ways  to 
be  followed  in  order  to  lead  up  "naturally"  to  the 
subject  aimed  at.  For  on  no  account  must  he  guess 
at  a  personal  interest  in  the  matter.  That  would 
betray  everything.  Fortunately,  despite  her  igno- 
rance of  diplomacy  as  a  career,  she  was  a  woman, 
which  means  that  she  required  none  of  that  profes- 
sional training  by  which  alone  the  male  diplomat 
can  be  turned  out. 

Having,  therefore,  with  admirable  liveliness, 
served  to  her  father  the  crumbs  of  society  gossip, 
and  regardless  of  the  fact  that  his  interest  in  these 
topics  was  nil  (what  could  that  matter  so  long  as 
he  could  be  persuaded  that  hers  was  huge?),  and 
having  posted  him  up  in  all  the  new  crazes,  she  pro- 
ceeded to  draw  the  circle  close  by  exclaiming: — 

"Oh,  here's  an  article  about  Vienna,  papa — that 
may  interest  you.  It  doesn't  mention  names,  but 
it  calls  it  'the  gay  city  of  the  blue  river,'  which, 
of  course,  means  that.  It's  about  the  Spanish  Am- 
bassador there,  and  some  story  about  his  wife ;  but 
I  don't  quite  believe  what  they  say.  Listen!" 

Harding  sat  passive  and  unprotesting. 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     257 

"Is  it  not  ridiculous  of  them?"  asked  Irma  at 
the  end;  "if  it  is  true,  of  course.  What  can  it  mat- 
ter about  her  want  of  family,  and  even  about  her 
having  acted,  so  long  as  she  behaves  herself?  Do 
you  think  it  possible?" 

"Is  what  possible?"  inquired  Harding,  rousing 
himself  to  the  attention  that  appeared  to  be  ex- 
pected. 

"That  Austrians  could  be  as  unreasonable  as  this. 
It  strikes  me  as  an  aspersion  cast  on  my  nation, 
don't  you  see!"  she  finished  with  an  explanatory 
laugh. 

"There's  no  pride  like  the  Austrian  pride  of 
birth." 

"Yes,  but  if  she's  good  enough  to  be  the  wife  of 
an  Ambassador,  then  surely  she's  good  enough  to  be 
their  guest.  You  see  it  says  expressly  that  there 
was  nothing  against  her  character." 

"I  believe  an  Austrian  Countess  could  more 
easily  forgive  a  hole  in  a  character  than  a  hole  in 
a  pedigree,"  smiled  Harding. 

"Could  such  a  thing  happen  anywhere  but  in 
Austria?" 

"Not  in  the  same  way,  I  fancy.  But,  whatever 
his  past,  that  man  would  probably  find  himself  ham- 
pered. You  see,  a  diplomat's  wife  is  too  much  a 
part  of  his  functions  to  be  ignored.  If  he  is  wise 
he  will  select  her  almost  as  carefully  as  the  Sover- 
eign or  the  heir  to  the  throne  chooses  his  consort. 
All  the  social  part  of  the  business  falls  to  her. 


258     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

That's  why  they  nearly  all  marry  titles.  To  have 
a  lot  of  tame  Counts  or  Princes  running  in  and  out 
of  the  house,  with  the  freedom  of  blood-relations, 
cannot  fail  to  give  an  eclat  to  the  position." 

"Then  the  Spaniard  cannot  have  been  very  wise." 

"No,  he  cannot.  In  that  fierce  light  which  beats 
on  Embassies  almost  as  broadly  as  on  thrones  I 
don't  see  how  he  could  hope  to  keep  the  stage  epi- 
sode dark.  And  he  must  have  known  the  danger  to 
his  career,  since  an  ambassador  cannot  afford  to 
have  his  wife  insulted,  his  honour  being,  so  to  say, 
identical  with  that  of  the  country  he  represents." 

"He  must  have  been  very  fond  of  her,"  mused 
Irma. 

"Yes,  that  must  have  been  it." 

Through  the  dullness  of  Harding's  pale  blue 
eyes  a  spark  of  interest  kindled  into  sight. 

"When  you  are  fond  of  a  woman  nothing  mat- 
ters, of  course." 

His  thin  lips  pressed  each  other  almost  out  of 
sight. 

"Too  great  a  love^just  so;  and  now  he  is  paying 
for  it.  Poor  fellow!" 

He  smiled  pityingly,  like  a  man  who  knows  all 
about  it. 

"Will  he  not  get  another  post?" 

"It  does  not  seem  convenient  to  give  him  another 
at  present,  as  they  say.  And  even  when  a  vacancy 
comes  there  will  have  to  be  much  weighing  and 
considering  of  whether  his  wife  will  do  for  the  post 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     259 

as  well  as  he.     Oh!  he  tied  a  dead  weight  to  his 
foot  when  he  married  her,  and  no  mistake." 

In  the  silence  which  fell  father  and  daughter 
were  each  so  busy  with  a  private  train  of  thought 
as  almost  to  forget  the  other's  presence.  Irma  fol- 
lowed her  own  reflections  with  elbows  on  knees  and 
hot  cheeks  pressed  between  her  two  hands,  for  the 
agitation  of  the  afternoon  was  not  yet  spent.  She 
had  wanted  to  be  enlightened — so  she  told  herself, 
with  frowning  gaze  fixed  on  the  fire — and  now  she 
was  enlightened — beyond  her  desires.  Those  few 
words  of  her  father's  had  told  her  more  about  the 
life  of  a  diplomat,  and  consequently  of  Vincent 
Denholm,  than  she  had  ever  guessed  at  before. 
Such  careers  as  his  could  be  either  made  or  marred 
by  a  marriage,  it  would  seem.  And  yet  he  had 
proposed  to  marry  her.  That  meant  that  he  loved 
her  to  that  particular  point  where  "nothing  mat- 
tered," as  her  father  put  it.  The  recognition  would 
have  been  a  joy  had  it  not  brought  with  it  another 
— that  of  the  impossibility  of  ever  becoming  his 
wife.  By  the  dull  stab  at  her  heart  she  knew  that 
until  this  moment  hope  had  not  been  quite  dead; 
that  despite  that  instinctive  "No"  spoken  in  Miss 
Bennett's  drawing-room,  a  hidden  thought  of  pos- 
sible reconsideration  of  the  decision  had  been  sneak- 
ing about  somewhere  out  of  sight.  But  this  was 
the  coup  de  grace.  It  was  now  only  that  the  abso- 
lute impossibility  stood  unveiled  and  naked  before 
her — now  only  that  the  gulf  revealed  itself  as  for- 


260     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

ever  unbridgeable.  For  this  was  no  question  of  a 
merely  obscure  origin,  nor  of  the  exercise  of  a  pro- 
fession honourable  though  discredited.  It  was  a 
dishonoured  name  which  she  would  be  bringing  to 
her  husband ;  a  name  which  could  be  cast  up  in  his 
teeth  any  day,  just  as  the  stage  had  been  cast  up  in 
those  of  the  Spanish  ambassador.  A  diplomat  could 
not  afford  to  have  his  wife  insulted;  which  meant, 
of  course,  that  he  could  not  afford  to  have  for  his 
father-in-law  a  defrauding  bank-director  marked 
down  by  the  international  police. 

No,  no — this  was  the  end  of  everything,  of 
course.  That  Spanish  actress  had  apparently  been 
able  to  make  up  her  mind  to  spoil  the  career  of  the 
man  she  loved,  but  Irma  Harding  would  never  do 
that. 

Of  the  man  she  loved?  Even  so.  For  the  mo- 
ment in  which  she  recognised  him  as  irretrievably 
lost  to  her  was  also  the  one  in  which  she  looked 
her  own  secret  in  the  face. 


CHAPTER  VI 

"IGEN  OR   NEM?" 

"6,  Fortague  Street, 

"Friday  Evening. 
"DEAR  VINCENT: 

"I've  been  as  good  as  my  word.  The  desired 
light  upon  the  situation  has  been  turned  on.  You 
should  have  seen  me  tackle  her,  which  I  did  straight 
out,  with  what  any  one  of  your  professional  train- 
ing would  probably  call  'brutal  directness' ;  but  you 
know  how  stupid  I  am  about  'disguising'  my 
thoughts.  I  therefore  inquired  point-blank  whether 
I  might  count  on  the  continuance  of  the  lessons  or 
would  have  to  look  out  for  another  German  teacher. 
Then,  when  she  opened  her  eyes  rather  wide,  I  ex- 
plained that  reports  had  reached  me — conveyed,  of 
course,  by  the  usual  'little  bird'  (which  in  this  case 
couldn't  well  be  anything  higher  than  a  London 
sparrow) — touching  a  certain  motor-car  which  had 
been  noticed  in  Filbert  Gardens — since,  even  in 
London,  things  are  occasionallynoticed — and  of  the 
conclusions  drawn  therefrom,  which  had  led  me  to 
suppose  that  Fraulein  Hartmann  would  soon  be 

261 


262     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

more  pleasantly  occupied  than  in  driving  German 
grammar  into  such  thick  skulls  as  mine.  Upon 
which  she  laughed  and  confessed.  One-half  of  our 
surmises — that  of  the  motor-maker's  infatuation — 
is  correct,  but  the  other  half  is  nowhere.  It  seems 
that  she  has  said  'No'  twice  already — having  given 
him  two  Korbe  (baskets),  as  she  puts  it — which 
is  the  German  rather  practical  way  of  paraphrasing 
a  refusal.  That  time  you  met  the  motor  at  the  cor- 
ner was  the  occasion  of  the  handing  over  of  the 
second  of  these  'baskets.'  She  tells  me  that  he 
threatens  to  propose  once  a  month,  for  the  future, 
and  that  she  has  got  an  unlimited  supply  of  'bas- 
kets' ready  for  him — and  this  in  spite  of  having 
actually  been  promised  an  exclusively  'motor'  honey- 
moon. She  is  getting  quite  learned,  it  seems,  about 
'worm  drives'  and  'bevel  gear.'  She  was  both 
amused  and  amusing  about  it  all.  To  hear  her 
laugh  was  to  feel  assured  that,  whatever  else  blocks 
your  path,  it  is  not  the  motor.  I  suspect  it's  no 
more  than  some  exaggerated  idea  about  her  father, 
and  not  wanting  either  to  abandon  him  or  burden 
her  husband  with  him.  She  seems  to  me  the  sort  of 
girl  who  could  rise  to  quixotism.  But  I  don't  see 
why  the  obstacle  need  be  insurmountable.  The  old 
gentleman  is  a  gentleman ;  and  I  imagine  that  if  the 
presence  of  the  father  is  all  the  price  you  have  to 
pay  for  the  possession  of  the  daughter,  that  price 
will  be  cheerfully  paid. 

"Conclusion :  Go  in  and  win ! — always  supposing 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     263 

you  to  be  in  the  same  mind  you  were  in  on  Friday. 
I've  cleared  away  the  shadows,  I  think;  it's  for  you 
to  steer  by  the  light  obtained. 

"Your  affecte.  cousin, 

"MINNA  BENNETT. 

"P.  S. — Do  you  by  any  chance  require  the  loan 
of  my  drawing-room?  Next  German  lesson  takes 
place  on  Tuesday.  Avis  au  lecteur." 

"Three  whole  and  entire  days  till  Tuesday!"  was 
the  resume  Vincent  made  of  the  letter  as,  with  eyes 
that  were  already  shining,  he  laid  it  down. 

And  forthwith  he  began  to  fume  at  so  extraor- 
dinary an  arrangement  as  a  day  having  the  ridicu- 
lous number  of  twenty-four  hours,  and  each  hour 
the  absurd  contingent  of  sixty  whole  minutes.  For, 
viewed  from  the  depths  of  Friday  night,  Tuesday, 
of  course,  looked  centuries  away.  Three  entire 
days  before  he  could — do  what?  Propose  over 
again  to  a  girl  who  had  already  presented  him  with 
one  of  those  "baskets"  of  which  she  evidently  pos- 
sessed an  inexhaustible  provision. 

A  rejected  suitor  pleading  for  the  favour  with- 
held had  always  appeared  to  him  an  ignominious 
spectacle;  he  was  learning  now  the  radical  differ- 
ence between  an  objective  and  a  subjective  point  of 
view. 

As  matters  turned  out  he  had  not  to  wait  till 


264     POMP  AND   CIRCUMSTANCE 

Tuesday,  cruel  Fate  being  kind  enough  to  shorten 
the  suspense. 

It  was  on  the  very  next  morning  that,  having 
business  in  the  city,  the  first  sight  which  met  his 
eyes  as  he  stepped  out  of  his  banker's  door  into 
the  teeth  of  a  peculiarly  bitter  east  wind  was  the 
cadaverous  face  of  Herr  Hartmann,  journeying 
eastwards  in  a  closely  packed  'bus.  This  presuma- 
bly meant  his  absence  from  Filbert  Gardens  for  at 
least  half  a  day,  and  might  possibly  mean  the 
daughter's  solitary  presence  there.  Instantly  the 
vision  of  the  shabby  dwelling-room  stood  before 
his  mind's  eye  with  sudden,  compelling  force.  A 
single  figure  shone  out  of  its  mean  frame.  From 
that  distant  point  to  the  spot  upon  which  he  stood 
invisible  fibres  seemed  to  be  stretching,  strong  as 
cords,  adhesive  asx  tentacles,  all  drawing  him  in  one 
direction.  Remembering  the  three  nights  which 
separated  him  from  Tuesday,  and  reflecting  upon 
the  quality  of  the  sleep  enjoyed  during  the  one  just 
passed,  Vincent  came  to  a  sudden  resolution.  Might 
not  that  vision  of  the  face  in  the  'bus  have  been  the 
finger  of  Providence,  and  could  this  not  be  the  mo- 
ment which,  taken  at  the  flood,  leads  on  to  fortune? 

Within  a  minute  he  sat  in  a  hansom,  his  face 
turned  westwards,  his  heart  beating  as  hard  as 
though  he  had  been  sixteen  instead  of  twenty-six. 

Good  luck  favours  not  only  the  brave,  but  also 
the  resolute — up  to  a  certain  point.  It  was  only 
when  Pattie,  with  eyes  so  widely  torn  open  as  to  ap- 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     265 

pear  of  almost  normal  size,  said :  "Miss  'Artmann  ? 
Yes,  sir,  she's  in  her  room" — that  it  occurred  to 
Vincent  how  very  improbable  it  had  been  that  he 
should  find  her  at  home  at  this  hour. 

"Will  you  ask  her  whether  she  will  receive  me?" 
said  Vincent,  pulling  out  a  card;  but  already  Pattie, 
whose  fault  was  not  slowness,  had  flung  wide  the 
door  alongside. 

"A  gentleman  for  you,  miss,"  she  triumphantly 
proclaimed,  and  promptly  shut  them  in  together. 

Barely  across  the  threshold,  Vincent  stood  still, 
in  momentary  diffidence,  while  from  a  chair  beside 
the  fire  Irma  rose  precipitately,  a  half-darned  sock 
between  her  hands,  while  scissors  and  cotton 
dropped  unheeded  to  the  ground. 

"Mr.  Denholm — oh,  have  you  brought  a  mes- 
sage from  Miss  Bennett?  Or  perhaps  it  is  my  father 
you  want  to  see?  I  am  so  sorry — he  is  out." 

She  spoke  in  patent  agitation,  with  quick,  vivid 
flushes  passing  across  her  startled  face. 

"I  know  that  he  is  out.  That  is  why  I  came.  I 
will  go  away  at  once  if  you  order  me;  but  I  should 
like  to  put  a  question  first.  It  is  a  question  which 
I  would  have  put  the  other  day  if  you  had  given 
me  time." 

Earnestly  and  steadily  he  looked  at  her  across 
the  room. 

"What  question?"  she  faintly  asked 

"When  you  said  'No'  to  me  on  Tuesday  last, 
was  it  what  people  call  an  'insurmountable  aver- 


266     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

sion'  to  my  person  which  prompted  you  ?    That  is 
what  I  should  like  to  know?" 

There  was  an  attempt  at  lightness  in  the  tone — 
not  over-successful.  Nor  did  the  answer  come  at 
once.  Mechanically  she  turned  back  to  the  sock 
she  was  darning — perhaps  for  the  sake  of  having 
something  over  which  to  bend  her  face — and  made 
a  stitch  blindly;  but  even  across  the  room — for 
they  stood  with  its  whole  width  between  them — 
Vincent  could  see  how  her  fingers  were  shaking. 

"Irma!"  he  said  very  low,  in  a  tone  that  was 
loaded  with  both  tenderness  and  reproach. 

Then  she  looked  up;  and  with  the  meeting  of 
their  eyes  her  defences  fell.  In  three  strides  he  had 
crossed  the  floor  and  taken  her  hands — sock  and 
all.  There  was  one  long  trembling  sigh  as  she  let 
herself  go,  half  falling  against  him,  with  passion 
in  her  eyes,  and  on  her  cheeks  the  mingled  red  of 
passion  and  of  that  shame  with  which  even  the 
purest  love  is  shadowed.  For  one  long,  perfect 
moment  their  lips  met  in  one  of  those  kisses  in 
which  two  souls  seem  to  mingle  as  palpably  as  two 
bodies  touch. 

"I  have  not  lived  till  now!"  was  the  thought 
flooding  the  man's  mind.  "Ah,  to  die  after  this !" 
hummed  through  the  woman's  veins  as  much  as 
through  her  head. 

"My  love !"  he  breathed  into  the  small  ear  dis- 
covered somehow  within  reach  of  his  lips. 

"My  love  I" 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     267 

Two  words  only,  and  yet  they  had  broken  the 
spell.  Within  his  arms  she  stiffened  suddenly,  bend- 
ing back  her  head  in  order  to  fix  him  with  scared 
eyes. 

"I  am  not  your  love — no,  no — not  that !  I  was 
forgetting." 

"My  love — and  soon  to  be  my  wife,"  he  mur- 
mured, half  drunk  still  from  an  excess  of  joy.  "You 
will  be  my  wife,  Irma?" 

Almost  violently  she  tore  herself  free,  pushing 
him  from  her  with  her  two  hands. 

"Never !    I  can  never  be  your  wife  1" 

She  was  retreating  before  him;  the  ecstasy  of 
a  moment  ago  blotted  out  on  her  face  by  a  kind  of 
horror. 

Abruptly  sobered,  Vincent  gazed  in  alarm,  star- 
tled by  the  vehemence  of  both  words  and  action. 

"But — just  now?" 

"Just  now  I  was  mad.  Be  generous,  and  forget!" 

"Forget!"  He  laughed  harshly.  "It  is  so  like- 
ly I  will.  It  is  so  much  my  habit  to  propose  to 
young  ladies  that  such  a  trifling  episode  will  easily 
be  lost  count  of." 

"Oh,  I  know;  but  in  time — in  time,"  moaned 
Irma.  "It  was  only  because  I  was  not  prepared. 
Oh,  why  did  you  take  me  by  surprise !" 

"I  thank  my  stars  that  I  did,  else  I  might  not 
have  found  out  your  secret.  For  you  love  me, 
Irma ;  deny  it  if  you  dare !" 

Her  lips  parted,  and  closed  again.    The  denial 


268     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

would  not  cross  them.  Though  she  had  wanted 
it,  she  could  not  give  the  lie  to  her  own  heart — 
could  not  take  back  the  confession  of  that  mad  kiss 
which  still  throbbed  in  her  veins.  For  so  black  a 
perjury  she  was  both  too  honest  and  too  proud. 

"Granted  that  I  could  forget,  would  you  forget, 
Irma?" 

His  piercing  glance  seemed  to  cut  the  answer 
out  of  her  heart  as  with  a  sharp  knife.  Whether 
she  would  or  not,  she  must  meet  it;  and  suddenly 
the  needed  strength  came. 

"No,  I  would  not  forget.  You  would  not  believe 
me  if  I  said  I  would.  The  other  day  I  was  not 
sure  of  what  I  felt;  but  to-day  I  know." 

She  looked  at  him  steadily  now;  self-mastery 
regained  by  a  violent  effort  of  will. 

"And,  knowing  it,  you  still  give  me  the  same 
answer  as  then?" 

"The  same.  It  can  make  no  difference.  Don't 
ask  me  to  explain — I  cannot.  But  I  cannot  marry 
you.  I  can  never  marry  anybody." 

"You  need  not  explain.  I  understand.  You  are 
thinking  of  your  father,  of  course ;  you  do  not  want 
to  leave  him.  But  neither  need  you ;  I  have  thought 
of  that,  too.  With  all  my  heart  I  am  ready  to  be 
his  son." 

She  looked  at  him  gratefully — far  more  grate- 
fully than  she  had  looked  at  Mr.  Potts  on  a  some- 
what similar  occasion. 

"How  good  you  are  1    But n 


POME  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     269 

"I  am  not  good;  I  love  you — that  is  all.  Irma, 
don't  keep  me  in  pain.  Let  me  know  my  fate 
quickly.  Yes  or  No?  I  gen  or  Nemf — which  is  it 
to  be?  The  two  syllables,  please!  not  the  onel 
Don't  you  remember  how  I  said  that  Hungarians 
must  be  fonder  of  saying  No  than  Yes, because  they 
took  longer  to  assent  than  to  deny?  Take  as  long 
as  you  like,  but  say  the  right  word  at  last.  Igen, 
Irma — is  it  not  I  gen?" 

But  there  was  no  responding  smile  upon  her 
face,  though  he  was  beside  her  once  more  and  had 
retaken  hungry  possession  of  her  hands. 

"It  is  your  father,  is  it  not?  You  do  not  want 
to  leave  him?  Have  confidence  in  me,  my  lovel 
Tell  me  all!" 

She  drew  away  her  hands,  quite  gently  this  time. 
Her  quiet,  and  the  heavy  sadness  in  her  eyes, 
frightened  him  far  more  than  her  vehemence  of  a 
minute  ago  had  frightened  him. 

"It  is  not  what  you  think.  The  matter  is  not 
so  simple.  Even  if  my  father  were  to  die  to-day, 
it  could  make  no  difference.  The  impossibility 
would  remain.  I  can  never  be  your  wife." 

For  a  moment  longer  he  studied  her  face,  then 
turned,  with  a  puzzled  frown,  to  vaguely  peram- 
bulate the  room.  Something  about  her  manner 
bore  in  upon  him  a  sense  of  hopelessness.  He  had 
an  idea  that  her  heart  was  breaking,  together  with 
the  conviction  that  nothing  would  break  her  will. 

"An  impossibility?     There  is  no  such  word  in 


270     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

my  dictionary.  An  impossibility  simply  means  an 
obstacle,  and  obstacles  are  made  to  be  removed,  or 
knocked  aside,  or  trampled  down.  But  in  order 
to  trample  effectively  one  would  need  to  know  its 
nature.  If  you  could  tell  me  more " 

"No,  no — I  can  tell  you  nothing." 

"Then  I  will  find  it  out  for  myself." 

"No,  no!"  she  said  again,  with  a  note  of  terror 
in  her  voice.  "Do  not  do  that !  It  would  change 
nothing — only  make  it  worse." 

"Is  it  another  man?"  he  asked,  well-nigh  rough- 
ly, watching  her  with  jealous  suspicion. 

"No." 

"Will  you  swear  to  me  that  no  other  man  has 
anything  to  do  with  this  impediment?" 

"Yes;  I  swear." 

He  looked  into  the  transparently  truthful  eyes, 
and  was  convinced,  but  all  the  more  deeply  puz- 
zled. 

Having  taken  a  few  more  aimless  steps  about 
the  room — for  neither  of  them  had  thought  of  sit- 
ting down  during  the  brief  and  agitated  interview 
— Vincent  halted  at  last  beside  the  mantelpiece, 
his  eye  caught  by  a  somewhat  unusual  object  which, 
with  that  aggressive  distinctness  of  certain  details 
in  moments  of  mental  excitement,  had  jumped  into 
his  field  of  vision. 

"What  is  that?"  he  asked  in  accents  of  the  pro- 
foundest  astonishment,  pointing  to  a  dingy  little 
wooden  figure  tricked  out  in  skirts  which  presum- 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     271 

ably  had  once  been  pink,  arid,  to  judge  from  the 
convulsive  clasp  of  her  match-wood  arms,  striving 
to  swarm  up  the  stem  of  a  brass  candlestick — May- 
pole fashion. 

Irma  looked  across  the  room,  and  half  smiled. 

"That  is  the  Past,"  she  said,  with  a  bitter  twitch 
at  the  corners  of  her  fair  lips. 

"Ah !  and  what  you  call  the  'impossibility'  dates 
from  the  past,  too,  I  presume?" 

"Yes." 

"And  she — this  creature — knows  all  about  it, 
no  doubt?" 

"She  was  a  witness,"  said  Irma,  falling  into  the 
lighter  tone — though  it  was  but  a  false  lightness — 
which  the  talk  seemed  to  be  taking.  "Oh,  yes,  of 
course,  she  knows  all  about  it." 

"Will  you  do  me  a  favour,  Fraulein  Hartmann? 
Some  ladies  are  merciful  enough  to  bestow  a  flower 
or  a  ribbon  upon  a  rejected  suitor.  I  crave  the  pos- 
session of  this  doll." 

Irma  smiled  wearily,  thankful  for  that  "Frau- 
lein Hartmann,"  and  yet  illogically  wounded  by  it. 

"Oh,  take  her,  of  course.     But    she    is    very 

grimy." 

"Which  is  enough  to  tell  me  that,  though  she 
may  be  the  past,  she  is  not  your  past,"  said  Vin- 
cent, with  another  straight  look  into  her  eyes,  while 
he  deliberately  pocketed  Vindobona. 

"She  isn't  a  talking  doll,  I  suppose,  more's  the 


272     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

pity;  for  if  she  was,  I  might  yet  get  the  truth  out  of 
her  regarding  that  obstacle." 

"It  is  I  who  want  a  favour  now,  Mr.  Denholm." 

"Well?" 

"Will  you  give  me  your  word  not  to  try  and 
find  out  anything  about  the  obstacle?  It  would 
make  me  much  happier." 

Her  eyes  pleaded  almost  humbly,  yet  very  ob- 
viously in  vain. 

"I  am  sorry  not  to  be  in  the  position  of  bestow- 
ing happiness  upon  you,  Fraulein  Hartmann;  but, 
having  an  objection  to  breaking  my  word,  I  cer- 
tainly do  not  mean  to  give  it  on  this  occasion." 

The  touch  of  grimness  in  the  tone  blended  per- 
fectly with  the  new  ceremoniousness  of  manner; 
and  it  was  ceremoniously,  too,  that  presently  he 
bowed  himself  from  the  room.  A  most  conven- 
tional ending  to  what  had  begun — to  say  the  least 
of  it — unconventionally. 

Alone  again,  Irma  fell  into  a  chair  with  a  feel- 
ing of  exhaustion,  dominated  by  an  exultation  that 
would  have  liked  best  to  cry  fiercely  aloud.  What 
mattered  her  prostration,  since  the  victory  was 
gained?  Had  she  not  conquered  her  own  love  and 
his?  Had  she  not  saved  his  career  for  him,  in  the 
teeth  of  his  own  opposition,  against  his  own  will? 
The  first  rejection  had  been  made,  in  the  main,  for 
her  father's  sake ;  the  second  one  was  for  his  own. 
And  he  did  not  guess  it;  he  must  not  guess  it;  for 
such  knowledge  might  undo  her  work.  After  to- 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     273 

day  she  could  not  help  speculating  upon  the  extent 
of  the  sacrifices  he  might  be  ready  to  make.  All 
the  more  needful  that  she  should  be  strong,  be  firm 
for  them  both;  all  the  more  needful  to  keep  him 
in  his  ignorance.  And  then  there  was  the  opposite 
contingency  likewise  to  be  considered:  the  contin- 
gency of  his  weighing  the  sacrifice  required,  and 
deciding  against  it;  of  his  examining  the  objection 
and  accepting  it  as  final — a  thought  from  which  her 
woman's  pride  shrank  fearfully.  Of  the  two  pos- 
sibilities it  would  be  hard  to  say  which  would  be 
worse :  that  of  seeing  him  prefer  his  career  to  her, 
or  that  of  seeing  him  prefer  her  to  his  career,  and 
of  knowing  herself  the  wrecker  of  his  life.  It  was 
an  impasse,  whichever  way  she  turned.  "No,  no; 
he  must  never  know,"  she  said,  with  her  face  be- 
tween her  hands.  The  mere  thought  of  being 
branded  in  his  eyes,  of  standing  before  him  as  the 
avowed  daughter  of  a  defrauder,  was  insupport- 
able. 

Let  the  tears  flow  now — they  could  no  longer 
weaken  her  resolve.  And  yet  how  nearly  she  had 
failed !  Thinking  of  that  mad  moment  into  which 
that  drop  of  sun-steeped  Hungarian  blood  flow- 
ing in  her  veins  had  betrayed  her,  her  cheeks 
burned,  but  also  her  heart  exulted.  With  a  life- 
time of  renunciation  before  her,  could  she  regret 
entirely  that  one  moment  of  possession?  What- 
ever happened  now,  however  dark  the  years  to 


274    POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

come,  when  she  heard  happy  people  talking  of 
their  happiness,  she  would  at  least  know  what  they 
meant.  She,  too,  would  have  been  in  Arcadia,  if 
only  between  the  space  of  two  breaths. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  VERDICT 

"CAN  I  have  a  few  words  with  you  anywhere  in 
private?" 

Irma  looked  about  her  rather  hopelessly  in  the 
passage  to  which  she  had  followed  the  small,  neat 
doctor,  with  the  compact,  iron-grey  head.  The 
character  of  the  passage,  on  to  which  gaped  both 
the  lower  and  the  upper  staircases,  did  not  seem 
to  guarantee  the  privacy  desired. 

It  was  Mrs.  Martin  who  unexpectedly  played 
the  Deus  ex  machina — the  upper  portion  of  her 
person  surging  suddenly  into  sight  from  the  nether 
regions. 

"This  way,  miss,  please.  You  are  kindly  wel- 
come to  my  sitting-room,  if  it  be  so  as  'ow  the  med- 
ical gentleman  don't  hobject  to  stepping  down- 
wards." 

Since  the  first  appearance  of  the  motor-car  Mrs. 
Martin's  affability  towards  her  foreign  lodgers  had 
been  steadily  on  the  increase. 

The  medical  gentleman  not  objecting,  the  de- 
scent was  made  to  the  apartment  which  Mrs.  Mar- 

275 


276     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

tin  called  her  sitting-room,  but  whose  original  des- 
tination had  probably  been  that  of  a  storeroom  or 
china  closet — a  narrow  strip  of  a  space,  whose 
brick  floor  was  insufficiently  clad  with  rag  carpets, 
whose  whitewashed  walls  bloomed  with  Christmas 
supplements,  and  where  the  gas  had  to  be  turned 
on  even  for  midsummer  visitors,  in  place  of  the 
window  which  did  not  exist.  Here,  within  walls 
which  had  never  known  a  glimpse  of  daylight — 
let  alone  a  ray  of  sunshine — with  the  smell  of  the 
dinner  of  all  the  lodgers  in  her  nostrils,  Irma  was 
to  listen  to  words  whose  terror  seemed  to  be  punc- 
tuated by  the  hiss  of  the  pots  in  the  adjoining 
kitchen. 

The  very  first  glance  she  met  across  the  small 
round  table,  which  the  family  Bible  and  the  family 
album  divided  equally  between  them,  gave  her  a 
start:  it  looked  so  alarmingly  sympathetic,  which, 
of  course,  meant  that  there  was  something  to  sym- 
pathise about. 

"There  is  nobody  else — no  older  relative,  I 
mean — with  whom  I  could  have  this  talk?" 

"Nobody,"  said  Irma,  with  sinking  heart. 
"Please  tell  me  quickly:  is  he  very  ill?  I  thought 
it  was  only  influenza?" 

The  neat,  little,  iron-grey  doctor  coughed  neatly 
behind  his  well-cared-for  hand. 

"It  is  influenza;  but  it  is  not  only  influenza.  The 
attack  is  not  by  any  means  a  virulent  one.  It  is  not 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     277 

the  influenza  that  is  the  point;  it  is  the  state  of  the 
heart." 

"Is  there  anything  wrong  with  his  heart?"  asked 
Irma,  precipitately,  losing  colour  a  little. 

"When  was  your  father  last  examined  medi- 
cally?" asked  the  doctor,  with  a  doctor's  practised 
evasion. 

"Examined?  Oh,  I  don't  know;  not  for  years, 
certainly.  I  don't  remember  his  ever  being  exam- 
ined at  all." 

"I  see,"  said  Dr.  Hockins,  with  gently  closed 
eyes.  He  made  a  habit  of  this  when  listening  to  a 
report,  as  though  willing  to  save  the  victim  from 
the  embarrassment  of  his  rather  penetrating  gaze 
— something  after  the  fashion  of  certain  priests 
when  receiving  a  confession,  and  in  order  to  spare 
the  blushes  of  the  penitent. 

"And  during  the  past  year  did  you  not  observe 
that  his  health  was — ah — failing?" 

He  opened  his  eyes  and  closed  them  again,  after 
one  inquisitorial  glance. 

Irma's  heart  contracted  sharply. 

"Of  course  I  did.  I  did  everything  I  could  to 
persuade  him  to  see  a  doctor,  but  he  would  not.  He 
is — there  are  reasons  which  make  him  extremely 
shy  of  seeing  anybody." 

"I  see.  That  is  a  pity.  A  few  months  ago  there 
might  have  been  a  chance  of  checking  the  evil.  It 
has  probably  existed  for  some  years,  but  I  date  the 
chief  ravages  from  within  the  last  year.  You  will 


278     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

probably  know  whether  any  particular  cause  of 
worry  has  occurred  within  this  space.  This  form 
of  affection  is  usually  due  to  mental  causes." 

This  time  he  shut  his  eyes  very  tight  while  await- 
ing the  answer. 

"Oh,  he  has  had  causes,"  said  Irma,  with  a  quick 
heave  of  her  bosom,  a  bitter  curve  of  her  lip.  Then, 
as  though  in  dread  of  possible  self-betrayal : 

"But  what  is  the  evil?  Is  there  really  any 
danger?" 

A  very  kind  glance  met  her  from  the  keen  eyes 
opposite. 

"My  dear  young  lady,  it  would  not  be  right  of 
me  to  conceal  from  you  that  this  is  not  the  way  the 
question  stands.  Rather  I  should  put  it:  Is  there 
any  hope?" 

Speechlessly  Irma  sank  against  the  hard  chair- 
back,  gazing  wide-eyed  at  the  mouthpiece  of  fate. 

In  the  short  pause  that  followed  something  clat- 
tered to  the  ground  in  the  kitchen  alongside,  and 
Mrs.  Martin  began  to  scold  in  her  habitual  scream, 
which,  at  a  recollection  of  the  visitors  close  by,  sank 
abruptly  to  a  spluttering  whisper. 

"Your  father  is  not  an  old  man;  his  age  would 
be  nothing  if  his  constitution  had  not  been  under- 
mined— probably  by  adverse  circumstances.  The 
influenza  in  itself  would  also  be  nothing,  and  may 
even  yet  prove  a  benefit  by  having  served  to  dis- 
close a  state  of  affairs  which  should  have  been 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     279 

looked  to  long  ago.     My  fear  is  that  it  has  dis- 
closed this  too  late." 

"Oh,  doctor  I"  said  Irma,  just  audibly.  "What 
am  I  to  do?" 

"Have  courage,  in  the  first  place — for  the  sake 
of  the  patient,  since  it  is  upon  your  shoulders  alone 
that  the  burden  seems  to  lie.  As  for  the  rest — my 
dear  young  lady — it  is  difficult  for  me  to  say;  but 
if  there  are  any — ah — dispositions  to  be  made,  it 
might  be  as  well  not  to  lose  time." 

"Then  you  really  think  he  is  going  to  die?" 

"My  respect  for  the  resources  of  nature  is  far 
too  great  to  let  me  'really  think1  anything.  It  re- 
solves itself  into  the  question  of  whether  the  heart 
is  or  is  not  up  to  the  work  which  still  stands  before 
it.  It  is  a  question  to  which  I  must  reserve  my 
answer;  but  I  am  afraid — I  am  very  much  afraid 
that  it  will  be  wisest  for  you  to  be  prepared  for  the 
worst." 

Irma  leaned  forward,  and  right  across  the  Bible 
and  the  album  stretched  her  clasped  hands  towards 
the  doctor. 

"But  you  will  do  everything — everything  to  save 
him,  will  you  not?" 

Dr.  Hockins  smiled,  a  little  pityingly,  for  so 
much  na'ivefe.  As  if  the  pleadings  of  a  daughter 
had  anything  to  do  with  the  conscientious  exercise 
of  a  profession  I 

"I  will  do  my  duty,  my  dear  young  lady.  It  will 
be  your  part  carefully  to  follow  the  directions 


280     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

given.  Our  first  object  must  be  to  feed  the  engine 
which  keeps  the  machine  a-going — in  other  words, 
to  strengthen  the  heart." 

Technical  details  filled  the  last  few  minutes  of 
the  doctor's  visit.  Irma  drank  them  in  thirstily, 
and  with  a  pang  saw  the  house-door  close  upon  his 
dapper  person;  for  now  she  was  alone  with  the 
coming  shadow ;  the  wrestle  with  the  King  of  Ter- 
rors, of  whose  approach  the  little  doctor  had  served 
as  herald. 

For  one  minute  she  took  refuge  in  her  own  small 
bedroom,  and  there  struggled  for  composure;  for 
the  blow  just  received  had  come  upon  her  like  a 
thunderclap,  as  it  is  apt  to  come  upon  the  young 
and  healthy  who  have  chanced  never  to  see  death, 
and  to  whom  its  very  existence  seems  so  distant  as 
to  be  scarcely  a  reality.  She  had  been  anxious  ere 
this,  but  not  seriously  alarmed,  used  as  she  was  to 
her  father's  chronic  feebleness. 

That  day  of  bitter  east  wind  on  which  Vincent 
had  caught  sight  of  Harding  in  the  City  'bus  had 
been  the  last  on  which  he  had  gone  to  his  work. 
That  same  evening  he  had  come  home  in  a  state  of 
exhaustion  quite  distinct  from  the  daily  fatigue,  and 
next  morning,  after  a  restless  night,  had  made  a 
vain  attempt  at  rising,  peremptorily  cut  short  by 
Irma.  Both  to  her  and  to  him  it  had  seemed  at 
first  nothing  more  than  a  bad  cold,  for  whose  com- 
bating the  various  hot  infusions  recommended  by 
Mrs.  Martin  would  probably  prove  sufficient; 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     281 

though  Pattie,  personally,  put  more  confidence  in 
the  virtue  of  the  medals  which,  just  outside  the 
door,  she  conscientiously  dipped  into  every  cup  of 
tisane  sent  up  by  the  landlady;  besides  smuggling 
the  saintly  effigies — of  which  she  fortunately  pos- 
sessed an  ample  store — into  the  most  unlikely 
places.  It  was  not  until  St.  Benedict  had  been 
discovered  at  the  bottom  of  a  cup  of  camomile  tea, 
and  St.  Michael  had  come  to  light  from  between 
the  sheet  and  the  mattress,  where  he  had  been  af- 
fording the  patient  anything  but  peaceful  nights — 
that  Irma  became  aware  of  these  practices,  and,  in 
spite  of  Pattie's  tearful  assurance  that  the  first  of 
these  holy  men,  in  particular,  was  "a  ghrand  person 
for  colds,"  sternly  abolished  them.  When,  after 
four  days  of  assiduous  dosing,  her  father  had 
fainted  right  away  in  her  arms  while  she  was  set- 
tling his  pillows,  Irma  threw  the  tisanes  overboard 
as  well,  and,  sweeping  aside  the  sick  man's  objec- 
tions, insisted  upon  having  a  doctor.  And  now 
from  this  same  doctor's  lips  she  had  learnt  the 
truth;  for  although  he  had  not  denied  her  hope, 
she  had  scarcely  any  remaining.  It  was  so  much 
more  likely  that  he  had  said  less  than  more  of  his 
actual  thought. 

And  all  this  time  the  sick  man  lay  alongside  wait- 
ing for  his  verdict.  Yes,  she  must  be  strong,  and 
without  delay.  With  the  thought,  her  eyes  went 
to  the  silver  crucifix  above  the  bed — no  longer  the 
empty  sign  it  had  been  in  days  of  prosperity.  If 


282     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

she  knew  now  where  strength  lay  she  owed  the 
discovery  to  adversity — and  to  Pattie. 

As  she  stepped  into  the  shadow  s  that  were  redo- 
lent with  the  breath  of  the  eucalyptus  kettle  steam- 
ing away  upon  its  hob,  Irma  was  attempting  to 
conjure  to  her  lips  one  of  those  mechanical  smiles 
which  so  many  daughters  and  mothers  and  wives 
have  worn  on  similar  occasions — a  smile  whose  in- 
tent is  to  deceive,  but  which  is  so  fatally  liable  to 
degenerate  into  a  grimace.  It  was  her  way  of  arm- 
ing herself  against  the  look  of  anxious  expectation 
which  she  expected.  But  as  she  rounded  the  screen, 
placed  so  as  to  intercept  a  possible  draught  from 
the  door,  it  was  another  sort  of  look  that  met  her. 
Already  at  the  door  Harding's  impatient  "Is  that 
you,  Irma?"  had  touched  her  with  a  passing  sur- 
prise ;  and  now  her  astonishment  deepened ;  for  the 
sick  man,  raised  upon  his  elbow,  with  flushed  face 
and  eyes  brighter  than  she  had  seen  them  for  long, 
was  gazing  eagerly  towards  his  daughter. 

"Oh,  papa — lie  down;  you  will  tire  yourself." 

"No,  no — never  mind  that.  Why  have  you 
kept  me  waiting  so  long?  What  have  you  and  the 
doctor  been  talking  about?  Don't  you  think  the 
subject  might  have  a  certain  interest  for  me,  too? 
I  could  see  by  his  questions  that  it's  more  than  a 
cold.  How  much  longer  does  he  give  me?  Out 
with  it,  Irma." 

It  might  have  been  the  surprise  of  the  unex- 
pected tone  that  overthrew  Irma's  hastily  run-up 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     283 

defences.  Before  she  was  aware  of  what  had  hap- 
pened she  had  sat  down  beside  the  bed  and  burst 
into  tears. 

Immediately  a  gaunt  hand  stole  over  hers,  in 
which  her  face  was  hidden. 

"Don't  cry,  Irma!"  came  the  hoarse,  feeble 
voice. 

"You're  a  good  girl,  and  it  isn't  your  fault.  Can 
you  actually  imagine  that  you  are  bringing  me  a 
bad  piece  of  news?  Why,  it's  the  best  possible 
news  that  could  reach  me.  For  shame,  Irma! 
From  your  bright  little  head  I  should  have  looked 
for  more  perception.  What  did  he  say?  what  did 
he  say  exactly?  Is  the  verdict  clean-cut?  Did  he 
put  the  black  cap  on  to  pronounce  it?" 

He  still  stroked  her  fingers  soothingly,  coaxing 
her  with  the  pleading  of  his  voice,  into  which  there 
came  a  note  of  warning  as  he  added : 

"Mind,  I  have  a  right  to  the  truth  1" 

And  presently  he  drew  it  from  her — in  part. 
The  existence  of  danger  was  admitted,  the  neces- 
sity of  being  prepared;  and  what  she  did  not  tell 
him  he  knew  already — through  her  tears.  With 
a  strange  smile  on  his  thin  lips  he  listened,  lying 
back  now  upon  the  pillow,  his  eyes  exploring  the 
ceiling  with  a  gaze  as  far-reaching  as  though  no 
ceiling  were  there. 

When  she  was  silent  he  drew  one  of  the  long, 
laboured  breaths  which  it  tortured  her  to  hear,  and 
again  turned  his  face  towards  her. 


284    POMP  AND  CIRL  ANCE 

"Ton  win  wire  to  her,  Irma,  will  you  not?"  he 
said  more  quietly,  and  still  with  those  unnaturally 
brilliant  eyes.  "When  she  knows  it  is  the  end,  per- 
haps— perhaps  she  will  come.*9 

"Papa !"  said  Irma,  below  her  breath. 

"You  do  not  think  so?  Perhaps  I  have  no  right 
to  ask  her.  But  at  the  end,  you  know,  Irma,  at  the 
end;  when  she  knows  she  is  going  to  be  quit  of  me 
for  ever.  After  all,  she  did  love  me  once.  It 
would  be  the  last  favour.  And,  oh,  to  look  into 
her  eyes  again — to  touch  her  hand  but  in  passing! 
Perhaps  even  to  hear  her  forgive  mel  It  would 
be  easy  to  die  then." 

So  much  enchantment  lay  upon  the  white- 
bearded  face,  so  deep  a  craving  spoke  out  of  the 
hoarse  eagerness  of  the  voice,  that  Irma  stared,  as 
though  at  a  revelation.  And  with  the  astonish- 
ment mingled  a  pang.  So,  after  all,  for  all  die 
sacrifices  wrought,  for  all  the  affection  expended, 
she  did  not  really  count  in  his  life.  If  she  stood 
second  in  his  thoughts,  it  was  only  with  an  immense 
interval  between  her  and  their  first  object.  She 
knew  now  that  he  had  never  for  a  moment  ceased 
to  hanker  secretly  after  his  idol.  The  very  fact  of 
her  having  been  the  cause  of  his  moral  ruin  seemed 
only  to  have  riveted  the  chains  which  bound  him 
to  her.  For  the  daughter  who  had  saved  him  he 
might  feel  deep  esteem  and  profound  gratitude, 
and  affection,  too,  of  that  obvious,  unavoidable  sort 
which  fathers  feel  towards  daughters  who  are  also 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     285 

"good  girls";  but  all  the  passion  in  his  soul  be- 
longed to  the  wife  who  had  ruined  and  spurned 
him.  Upon  the  thought  of  her  he  hung  as  does 
the  beaten  dog  upon  the  eye  of  his  master.  It  was 
almost  as  though  the  very  burden  of  gratitude  op- 
pressed him  too  much  to  let  paternal  love  expand, 
for  to  all  but  the  most  ignoble  or  the  noblest  of 
natures  gratitude  is  ever  the  heaviest  of  burdens. 
We  feel  more  at  ease  with  those  who  owe  us  some- 
thing than  those  to  whom  we  owe  something — 
which  is  why  we  generally  prefer  the  society  of  our 
debtors  to  that  of  our  creditors. 

"Yes,  it  had  better  be  a  wire,"  Harding  said,  as 
huskily  and  as  eagerly  as  before.  "Did  he — did 
the  doctor  say  anything  about  a  hurry?" 

Then,  as  Irma  shook  her  head  passionately: 

"Still,  it  had  better  be  a  wire.  You  will  write 
it  at  once,  Irma,  won't  you  ?  Have  you  any  forms  ? 
And  put  it  plainly,  mind.  For  if  you  don't  put  it 
plainly  enough  she  may  not  think  it  necessary  to 
come." 

As  she  moved  reluctantly  towards  the  table  his 
eyes  followed  her. 

"How  fortunate  I  am  not  in  New  York,  now! 
You  never  guessed  what  it  was  that  put  me  against 
the  idea,  did  you?" 

The  pale-blue  eyes  took  on  a  passing  sharpness. 
He  tried  to  laugh,  but  had  perforce  to  cough  in- 
stead. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE   SUMMONS 

"A  TELEGRAM  for  you,  Isabella,"  said  a  large, 
dark  woman  of  masculine  aspect,  entering  the 
room  in  which  Mrs.  Harding,  in  a  peignoir,  was 
occupied  in  laboriously  piling  up  the  masses  of  her 
black  hair  before  a  looking-glass.  Until  the  ruin 
she  had  always  had  a  maid  to  do  it  for  her ;  and  the 
daily  struggle  with  her  abundant  tresses  marked 
a  daily  accentuation  of  the  bitterness  of  her  loss. 
But  the  toilet-table  itself  bore  almost  the  same  face 
as  in  old  days,  for  silver-backed  brushes  remained, 
of  course,  a  necessity  of  life,  and  the  number  of 
powder-puffs  and  crystal-boxed  cosmetics  clearly 
showed  that,  even  in  exile,  the  beauty  remained 
conscious  of  her  duties  towards  herself. 

She  turned  now  quickly  to  her  sister,  a  little  of 
the  brilliant  colour  fading  out  of  her  cheek. 

"From  London?" 

"Yes." 

"Give  it  me." 

She  tore  the  paper  open  with  fingers  visibly  un- 
steady; but  Amelia,  watching,  saw  the  terror  in 

986 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     287 

her  eyes  fade,  replaced  by  something  more  like 
perplexity. 

"What  is  it?  They  haven't  caught  him,  have 
they?" 

"No,  thank  heavens,  they  haven't  caught  him, 
but  he  is  ill.  Irma  seems  to  think  he  is  dying.  She 
asks  me  to  come." 

There  was  a  short  silence,  filled  by  thoughts 
which  it  is  not  likely  that  either  of  the  sisters 
would  have  consented  to  put  into  words.  Mrs. 
Harding,  the  crushed  paper  sunk  to  her  lap,  sat 
looking  past  the  mirror  and  out  towards  the  flat 
landscape,  bare  almost  as  a  table,  which  was  all 
the  window  framed,  and  with  only  the  huge,  slant- 
ing arm  of  a  draw-well  cutting  the  horizon. 

"What  will  you  do?"  asked  the  elder  sister, 
after  that  pause. 

"I  don't  know.    I  am  considering." 

"Would  not  a  meeting — such  a  meeting,  too — 
be  horribly  painful,  for  him  as  well  as  for  you? 
You  have  your  health  to  consider,  Isabella,  mind." 

The  large  brunette  spoke  with  something  of  ma- 
ternal authority,  and  with  a  glance  which,  coming 
from  under  those  thick  black  brows,  surprised  by 
its  tenderness.  The  spoilt  child  of  erstwhile  had 
evidently  not  exhausted  all  the  favours  of  fortune. 

"Horribly  painful — I  know.  But,  after  all,  it 
isn't  quite  easy  to  say  No  at  such  a  moment.  And 
it  is  probably  the  last  time." 

"Just  think  of  the  distance! — and  at  this  sea- 


288     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

son !  Really,  Isabella,  for  a  man  who  has  ruined 
you " 

"I  am  thinking  of  it.  But  it  is  not  the  man  alone 
— there  is  Irma." 

"How  do  you  mean?" 

"If  I  don't  go,  and  if — anything  happens,  Irma 
remains  lost  to  me.  She  will  not  come  back  to  me 
— I  have  read  that  out  of  her  letters — certainly 
not  if  I  refuse  to  fulfil  her  father's  request.  But 
if  I  go  she  may  be  a  little  touched,  and  I  may  be 
able  to  persuade  her  to  come  back  with  me.  And 
I  want  to  get  Irma  back.  She  has  mad  ideas,  but 
she  has  a  face  that  would  make  any  man  forgive 
them.  If  there  is  any  hope  for  us  in  the  future  it 
lies  with  Irma;  certainly  not  with  Gabrielle.  The 
poor  child  takes  after  her  father.  You  see  what 
I  mean,  Amelia?" 

"Yes,  I  see;  and  I  see  also  that  I  shall  have  to 
let  you  go.  Will  you  take  Gabrielle  with  you  ?  She 
won't  be  much  of  a  help." 

"Not  in  travelling;  but  possibly  in  persuading 
her  sister.  Yes,  I  shall  take  her." 

"Do  you  want  any  money,  Isabella?" 

"No,  thank  you.  Do  you  suppose  I  would  let 
you  pay  my  journey?  That  would  be  bitterer  far 
than  eating  your  bread." 

In  answer,  the  big,  masculine  woman  stooped 
to  kiss  her  beautiful  sister,  and  immediately  hur- 
ried off  to  her  well-stocked  larder,  in  order  to 
decide  which  of  the  fat  geese  and  prime  capons 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     289 

which  hung  there  almost  as  thickly  as  in  a  poul- 
terer's shop  would  be  best  adapted  for  provision- 
ing the  travellers. 

Meanwhile,  Mrs.  Harding  was  already  packing, 
feebly  seconded  by  Gabrielle — in  tears.  The  im- 
pending ordeal,  notwithstanding  the  bustle  of  this 
sudden  journey,  had  something  in  its  favour.  To 
one  used  to  the  movement  of  town  life,  existence 
in  a  Hungarian  puszta — be  it  ever  so  plentifully 
fed — could  not  but  flavour  of  the  monotony  of  the 
landscape.  A  break,  even  a  disagreeable  one,  was 
not  absolutely  unwelcome.  It  was  a  piece  of  good 
luck,  certainly,  to  have  a  sister  so  hospitable,  and 
married  to  the  owner  of  so  many  miles  of  maize- 
fields  and  of  rich  cattle-pasture  that  generosity 
scarcely  ranked  as  a  virtue;  for  where  such  an 
abundance  of  fatted  calves  and  pigs  and  chickens 
were  a-going,  the  presence  of  two  people,  more  or 
less,  could  really  make  no  difference.  Also,  in  spite 
of  an  occasional  reference,  made  for  decorum's 
sake,  to  the  flavour  of  the  bread  eaten,  that  bread 
scarcely  tasted  bitter  at  all  in  Isabella's  mouth.  But 
at  hard  cash  her  particular  sort  of  pride  drew  the 
line.  With  the  consciousness  of  this  reserve,  and 
with  the  chorus  of  indignant  pity  ever  sounding 
in  her  ear,  she  had  found  existence  endurable  dur- 
ing the  last  year — endurable,  but  not  exciting.  A 
rush  across  Europe  would  at  least  have  the  merit 
of  variety. 


290    POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

In  a  closely  packed  carriage  of  the  Dover  line,  the 
lamp  overhead,  which  had  just  been  lit,  fell,  among 
other  things,  upon  the  face  of  a  beautiful,  weary- 
looking  woman  approaching  middle  age,  and  upon 
that  of  her  immediate  neighbour,  a  fair-dunned, 
disconsolate-looking  girl's  face,  with  the  stains  of 
fresh  tears  upon  it.  The  woman's  face  was  not 
only  weary,  but  likewise  iU-humoured ;  for  the  jour- 
ney had  been  long  and  hurried,  and — contrary  to 
former  experience — taken  second-class.  Every 
journey  of  the  past  had  been  enjoyed  among  the 
orthodox  red-velvet  cushions,  whose  colour  alone 
seems  a  badge  of  fortune's  favours — its  fatigues 
eased  by  all  the  resources  of  modern  travel-  But 
this  time  first-class  tickets  had  been  out  of  the  ques- 
tion, and  a  sleeping-car  not  to  be  thought  of  .  Small 
wonder  that  the  erstwhile  enjoyer  of  fortune's  fa- 
vours should  feel  aggrieved  and  out  of  place — for 
the  rush  across  Europe  had,  by  this  time,  lost  all 
its  prospective  attractions — and  almost  unavoid- 
able that  her  thoughts  of  the  man  to  whom  she 
owed  the  discomfort  should  not  have  perceptibly 
softened. 

"Is  this  London?"  asked  Gabrielle,  as  cfimly 
seen  roads,  heaving  like  rigid  billows  on  either  side 
of  the  raised  causeway,  began  to  press  close,  picked 
out  by  points  of  light.  At  moments  the  sea  of  ma- 
sonry would  open,  to  disclose  a  gas-lit  street,  in 
which  bird's-eye  glimpses  of  men  and  vehicles,  of 


POMP  AND   CIRCUMSTANCE     291 

shop-windows  and  flaring  advertisements  could  be 
caught. 

"I  suppose  it  is  London.  You  had  better  collect 
the  wraps  instead  of  staring." 

Gabrielle  sighed  tremulously. 

"I  wonder  if  papa" — she  began  in  a  whisper. 

Collect  the  wraps,  Gabrielle." 

At  Victoria  another  bad  moment  with  the  lug- 
gage, not  calculated  to  improve  Mrs.  Harding's 
temper.  It  had  always  been  her  maid  who  looked 
after  such  trifles  as  this;  whereas  here,  apparently, 
she  was  expected  not  only  to  give  her  personal  at- 
tention to  the  matter,  but,  in  accordance  to  the  bar- 
barous English  fashion,  to  stand  in  a  jostling  crowd 
and  point  out  her  box  to  a  bungling  porter. 

Deeply  exhausted,  she  leaned  back  at  last  in  the 
four-wheeler  that  was  taking  them  to  Filbert  Gar- 
dens. As  to  what  might  possibly  be  awaiting  her 
there  she  was  too  genuinely  tired  to  dwell  upon  it, 
though,  beside  her,  Gabrielle  trembled  with  the 
terror  of  the  unknown. 

With  the  stopping  of  the  cab  she  opened  her 
eyes.  The  driver  was  climbing  down  from  the  box 
with  the  rheumatic  slowness  peculiar  to  the  four- 
wheeler  cabman.  Before  he  had  reached  the 
ground  the  door  had  been  opened  with  a  prompti- 
tude which  plainly  spoke  of  a  look-out  held. 

There  was  a  cry  from  Gabrielle :  "Irma  1  It  is 
Irma  herself!" 

In  a  moment  she  had  become  nimble;  and  by  the 


292     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

time  Mrs.  Harding  reached  the  doorstep  the  sisters 
were  withdrawing  from  their  first  embrace. 

"Well?"  asked  Mrs.  Harding,  a  little  breath- 
less. 

Impetuously,  with  a  momentary  blotting  out  of 
the  past,  Irma's  arms  were  flung  around  her  moth- 
er's neck. 

"Oh,  mamma — thank  heavens — he  is  better  1 
The  doctor  thinks  the  danger  is  past — for  the  pres- 
ent. He  is  really  better,  and  seeing  you  will  make 
him  quite  well.  Oh,  thank  you  for  coming !" 

"Better?"  said  Mrs.  Harding,  and,  after  that 
one  word,  was  silent,  perhaps  aware  of  a  discord 
in  its  tone. 

"You  will  come  in  at  once,  will  you  not?  He  is 
waiting." 

"But  our  things,  Irma !  You  will  let  me  dismiss 
the  cabman  first,  I  suppose.  Do  we  lodge  here?" 

"No — there  is  no  room.  I  have  taken  a  room 
for  you  at  Number  forty-two ;  a  private  hotel ;  only 
a  few  doors  off.  Pattie,  tell  him  where  to  take  the 
boxes.  And  now,  mamma,  this  way." 

"I  should  liked  to  have  washed  my  hands  first. 
You  forget  how  far  we  have  travelled." 

•"No,  I  don't,  but  the  suspense  is  bad  for  papa; 
I  am  sure  it  is.  Why,  we  had  to  give  him  morphia 
— this  last  night — in  order  to  keep  him  quiet.  Do 
you  think  it  matters  to  him  whether  your  hands 
are  washed  or  not?  This  way,  mamma,  please." 

Softly  she  opened  the  door  alongside,  and,  fol- 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     293 

lowed  by  her  mother — too  tired  to  cope  with  such 
impetuosity  as  this — stepped  into  its  shaded  light. 

"Papa,"  she  said,  stopping  before  the  sheltering 
screen,  as  though  to  spare  him  the  witness  even  of 
her  eyes  at  this  supreme  moment,  looked  to  with 
so  much  bliss  and  so  much  agony — "mamma  has 
come.  Here  she  is." 

Then,  stepping  back,  she  left  the  passage  free, 
and  taking  Gabrielle  by  the  hand,  hurried  her  into 
her  own  room  alongside,  leaving  husband  and  wife 
face  to  face  and  alone. 

What  words  were  spoken  during  the  conjugal 
tete-a-tete  it  is  not  for  an  outsider  to  guess.  Mean- 
while, between  the  sisters  other  words,  less  poign- 
ant, but  perhaps  as  significant,  were  passing. 

"Oh,  Irma — after  all !  I  was  beginning  to  think 
that  we  should  never  meet  again !  Have  you  had  a 
very  bad  time  of  it?  You  have  grown  so  thin  1" 

"You  haven't  grown  thin;  why,  you  have  almost 
grown  fat;"  laughed  Irma,  with  her  arm  around 
her  sister,  while  they  cowered  together  upon  her 
narrow  bed,  the  one  chair  in  the  room  being  of  for- 
bidding appearance.  To  feel  Gabrielle's  cheek 
against  her  own  gave  her  a  thrill  of  half-forgotten 
emotion.  The  voice  of  a  common  blood  was  call- 
ing louder  than  she  had  expected  it  to  call. 

"Oh,  not  fat,  I  hope!"  said  Gabrielle,  uneasily. 
"It's  so  ugly  to  be  fat.  But,  really,  at  Serelmes  it 
is  rather  difficult  to  avoid  it.  Aunt  Amelia  is  al- 
ways pressing  one  to  eat ;  and  the  butter  is  so  fresh 


294     POMP  AND   CIRCUMSTANCE 

and  so  good  and  the  chickens  so  beautifully 
stuffed!" 

Irma  laughed  again;  she  could  laugh  now,  at 
last,  after  two  days  of  mental  anguish. 

"Poor  Gabrielle!  What  an  awful  predicament 
to  be  in  I  I  have  been  spared  that,  at  least.  I  don't 
remember  anybody  pressing  me  to  eat  within  the 
last  year,  except  Pattie;  and,  considering  that  the 
things  to  eat  were  usually  cold  mutton  or  dry  toast, 
the  invitation  was  not  very  difficult  to  resist.  One 
of  your  stuffed  chickens  now  and  then  wouldn't 
have  been  a  bit  amiss." 

Gabrielle's  eyes  filled  with  the  ready  tears. 

"Oh,  Irma,  how  dreadful !  To  think  that  you 
have  actually  been  hungry!  Oh,  if  those  chickens 
were  mine  to  send !  But  you  must  never  be  hungry 
again.  You  will  come  back  with  us  this  time,  will 
you  not,  Irma?" 

Instantly  Irma's  arms  relaxed  in  their  clasp. 

"Don't  begin  that  way,  Gabrielle !  You  know 
quite  well  that  I  cannot  leave  papa ;  less  than  ever 
now,  with  his  health  so  precarious." 

"But  if — if  anything  were  to  happen  to  papa? 
You  would  come  with  us  then?" 

"Nothing  is  going  to  happen,"  said  Irma,  fierce- 
ly. "Have  I  not  told  you  that  the  danger  is  past  ? 
He  is  going  to  get  quite  well  again." 

"Well,  then,  if  he  is  quite  well  again,  you  could 
leave  him,  could  you  not?" 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     295 

Putting  her  hands  upon  her  sister's  shoulders, 
Irma  looked  her  in  the  face. 

"It  is  mamma,  is  it  not,  who  is  making  you  say 
this?" 

Gabrielle  coloured  helplessly. 

"Oh,  I  would  have  said  it  at  any  rate.  You 
know  how  I  wanted  you  to  stay  with  us  on — on 
that  terrible  day  in  Vienna." 

"But  it  was  mamma  who  told  you  to  persuade 
me  now?" 

"She  did  say  that  you  might  listen  to  me  more 
than  to  her ;  and  that  it  is  her  one  wish  to  take  you 
back  with  her." 

"Ah  !  now  I  understand  why  she  came." 

Abruptly  Irma's  face  had  hardened. 

'T  didn't  expect  she  would  come  when  I  sent 
that  telegram;  but  now  I  understand.  It  is  quite 
simple." 

"But  surely  you  cannot  blame  her,  Irma?" 

"I  do  not  blame  her  for  anything  she  has  done 
to  me.  It  is  not  me  she  has  harmed." 

"And  you  still  think  that — that  it — the  whole 
misfortune,  I  mean,  is  more  her  fault  than  papa's?" 
asked  Gabrielle,  with  humble  uncertainty. 

A  year  of  the  double  chorus — of  pity  of  her  one 
parent  and  condemnation  of  the  other — had 
brought  Gabrielle  to  the  point  of  wanting  to  con- 
sider her  father  alone  guilty  and  her  mother  wholly 
innocent,  as  being  the  theory  which  most  conven- 
iently squared  with  such  enjoyment  of  life  as  still 


296     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

remained  open  to  her.  But,  owing  partly  to  a 
trace  of  real  affection  for  the  culprit,  her  object 
had  not  been  entirely  attained.  For  '"Vorielle  was 
one  of  those  unfortunate  people  cursed  with  a  sense 
of  justice  uncoupled  with  the  courage  of  living  up 
to  their  convictions,  and  quite  devoid  of  that  con- 
venient coarseness  of  moral  fibre  which  made  her 
mother  invulnerable.  Hence  the  standing  torment 
of  self-reproach.  In  spite  of  much  mental  debase, 
she  had  not  arrived  either  at  quite  condemning  her 
father  nor  quite  forgiving  her  mother  for  her  con- 
duct in  the  crisis. 

Something  of  the  chronic  struggle  was  visible 
on  her  face  just  now,  even  to  Irma's  eyes. 

"I  have  not  changed  my  mind,"  she  said  a  little 
brusquely.  "And  to  think  of  them  at  Serelmes 
sitting  around  the  fire  of  a  winter's  evening  and  all 
throwing  stones  at  him  makes  my  blood  boil.  Do 
you  ever  try  to  turn  off  the  stones,  Gabrielle  ?" 

Under  her  sister's  piercing  glance  Gabrielle  hung 
her  head. 

"How  can  I — against  so  many?" 

"I  see.     Poor  papa!" 

Irma's  nostrils  were  quivering  now,  as  she  meas- 
ured the  figure  beside  her  with  a  glance  from  which 
tenderness  had  been  banished  by  a  more  dominant 
feeling. 

But  in  that  moment  the  hand  of  the  fair-haired 
little  egotist  stole  into  her  own. 

"Do  you  think  it  wrong  of  me  to  stay  with 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     297 

mamma,  Irma?  Ought  I  to  go  away  from 
Serelmes?" 

As  Irma  looked  into  the  pale-blue,  pleading  eyes 
her  own  softened.  That  moral  intolerance  which 
was  the  defect  of  her  qualities  made  it  hard  to  be 
patient  with  a  creature  of  so  different  a  make.  But 
for  nursery  memories  it  is  probable  that  she  would 
not  have  been  patient.  But,  the  nursery  memories 
being  there,  she  kissed  her  younger  sister  almost 
stormily,  though  with  the  conscious  superiority  of 
one  who  embraces  a  child. 

"Wrong?  What  an  idea!  It's  the  most  nat- 
ural place  in  the  world  for  you  to  be  at.  Of  course 
you  must  stay  with  mamma.  But  mind  about  the 
butter  and  the  chickens,  Gabrielle!"  she  added, 
with  so  affectionate  a  contempt  that  it  was  scarcely 
contempt.  "It  would  be  a  pity  to  spoil  your  figure. 
Just  now  it  is  very  becoming,  but  you  ought  not  to 
get  much  plumper  than  you  are." 

Gabrielle,  though  visibly  relieved,  yet  sighed 
under  the  stress  of  this  new-born  alarm. 

"Oh,  yes,  that  is  the  danger.  I  know  I  was  too 
thin  before,  but  it  would  be  worse  to  get  too  fat. 
Oh,  I  shouldn't  like  to  take  after  Aunt  Amelia! 

It  hasn't  really  harmed  me  till  now,  has  it,  Irma  ?" 

******* 

Later  in  the  evening,  while  Gabrielle  was  sitting 
beside  her  father's  bed  and  Irma  had  accompanied 
her  mother  to  No.  42,  another  short  talk  took 
place. 


298     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

Mrs.  Harding  had  come  out  from  the  interview 
with  her  husband  rather  pale  and  with  something 
not  easily  analysable  smouldering  in  her  eyes.  The 
moment  that  the  door  of  the  hotel  bedroom  was 
shut  she  turned  upon  her  daughter. 

"Was  that  summons  genuine?"  she  asked  briefly 
and  somewhat  aggressively — "or  was  it  a  sham?" 

"What  do  you  mean,  mamma?" 

"I  mean  was  he  really  so  ill  as  the  telegram  said, 
or  did  you  make  it  seem  worse  in  order  to  force 
my  hand?" 

"Mamma!" 

Irma's  eyes  began  to  blaze. 

"I  want  to  know  the  truth — that  is  all." 

"The  truth  is — I  will  swear  it,  if  you  like — that 
Dr.  Hockins  told  me  three  days  ago  that  he  had 
next  to  no  hope  of  saving  him;  that  he  might  die 
at  any  moment." 

"Then  what  has  produced  the  change?" 

"The  hope  of  seeing  you,  I  believe."  There  was 
a  quiver  as  of  scorn  in  Irma's  voice  as  she  said  it. 
"He  began  to  rally  from  the  moment  he  knew  that 
you  were  coming.  It  seemed  to  give  him  strength 
to  fight." 

"There  doesn't  seem  to  be  anything  the  matter 
with  him  just  now  except  an  influenza." 

"There  is  much  more  the  matter  with  him, 
really.  His  heart  is  all  wrong;  but  this  crisis  is 
past,  and  he  may  live  for  years,  the  doctor  says, 
with  proper  care." 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     299 

Mrs.  Harding  sat  down  somewhat  heavily,  lean- 
ing her  aching  head  against  the  chair-back. 

"I  don't  feel  just  now  as  if  /  was  going  to  live 
for  years,"  she  said,  with  a  half-laugh,  which  did 
not  ring  agreeably.  "That  journey  has  half-killed 
me,  I  can  tell  you.  I  shall  go  back,  of  course,  as 
soon  as  I  have  rested.  A  case  of  influenza  scarcely 
calls  for  three  nurses,  does  it?" 

"As  you  like,  mamma,"  said  Irma,  in  a  voice 
as  hard  and  far  more  icy  than  her  mother's.  Since 
the  talk  with  Gabrielle  the  merit  of  the  summons 
obeyed  had  lost  all  value  in  her  eyes,  and  hotter 
than  ever  burned  the  old  indignation. 


CHAPTER  IX 

TWO  SPHINXES 

"MEN  in  great  place  are  thrice  servants — ser- 
vants of  the  Sovereign  or  State,  servants  of  fame, 
and  servants  of  business;  so  as  they  have  no  free- 
dom, neither  in  their  persons,  nor  in  their  actions, 
nor  in  their  times.  It  is  a  strange  desire  to  seek 
power  and  to  lose  liberty;  or  to  seek  power  over 
others,  and  to  lose  power  over  a  man's  self.  The 
rising  unto  place  is  laborious,  and  by  pains  men 
come  to  greater  pains ;  and  it  is  sometimes  base  and 
by  indignities  men  come  to  dignities.  The  stand- 
ing is  slippery " 

With  a  jerk  of  impatience  Vincent  closed  the 
book.  What  an  unspeakably  priggish  idea  it  had 
been  to  turn  to  Bacon's  essays  as  a  means  of  filling 
up  the  quarter  of  an  hour  which — having  dressed 
for  dinner  in  Eaton  Place — he  found  upon  his 
hands!  The  result  proved  almost  as  irritating  as 
one  of  Minna's  lectures.  Viewed  as  a  distraction 
from  pursuing  thoughts,  the  evening  paper  would 
certainly  do  much  better. 

To  the  evening  paper,  accordingly,  he  turned; 
300 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     301 

and  presently — having  taken  in  the  telegrams  and 
more  or  less  assimilated  the  leader — fell  upon  a 
paragraph  headed  "An  Austro-Italian  Incident." 
This  "Incident"  consisted  of  the  arrestation  by  the 
Austrian  authorities  of  one  Giuseppe  Fernaldo,  an 
artist  by  profession,  who,  though  a  naturalised 
Austrian,  continued  to  call  himself  Signer  Fer- 
naldo, and  had  been  further  illustrating  his  undy- 
ing attachment  to  the  country  of  his  ancestors  by 
selling  to  the  Italian  attache  at  Vienna  the  plans  of 
various  fortifications,  drawn  with  admirable  accu- 
racy during  a  would-be  sketching  tour  in  Dalmatia. 
The  man  who  had  sold  the  plans  was  good  for  six 
months'  imprisonment;  the  man  who  had  bought 
them,  at  most  for  a  reprimand  from  his  own  chief 
for  not  being  judicious  enough  in  the  choice  of  in- 
struments. The  dirty  work  had  to  be  done,  of 
course ;  but  how  could  one  be  so  stupid  as  to  select  a 
bungler  who  lets  himself  be  caught  with  the  mud 
still  fresh  upon  his  hands ! 

Vincent  tossed  the  paper  aside — almost  into  the 
fire.  The  news  of  the  day  promised  to  be  almost 
more  irritating  than  that  voice  out  of  the  past,  and 
queerly  illustrative  of  it,  too.  That  attache  was 
one  of  those,  presumably,  who  "by  indignities" 
would  "come  to  dignities" — since,  of  course,  he 
would  take  his  lesson  to  heart.  And  this  between 
allies,  who  lost  no  opportunity  of  embracing,  pub- 
licly, upon  as  high  a  platform  as  possible!  Nor 
would  the  purchaser  of  the  plans  require  to  miss  a 


302     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

single  Court  ball  on  that  account ;  and  probably  not 
a  single  smile  of  the  aged  monarch  whose  subjects 
he  had  been  bribing  and  whose  hospitality  he  was 
enjoying.  Ugh !  It  was  just  a  little  revolting  at 
moments. 

"How  Minna  will  be  gloating  over  me  if  she 
sees  that  paragraph!"  laughed  Vincent,  "on  the 
wrong  side  of  his  mouth,"  while  a  movement  of 
generous  disgust  passed  over  him.  Upqn  which 
he  lit  a  cigar,  and,  giving  up  reading  as  a  bad  job, 
fell  to  his  chronic  occupation  of  these  last  days: 
that  of  thinking  of  Irma  Harding,  and  brooding 
over  the  pretended  obstacle  which  stood  between 
them. 

"And  you  are  supposed  to  know  all  about  it!" 
he  apostrophised  Vindobona,  whose  grimy  pink 
petticoats  now  graced  his  private  mantelpiece, 
throning  in  the  midst  of  pipes  and  cigar  boxes, 
something  like  a  London-grown  rose  with  the  soot 
sticking  to  its  petals.  "She  expressly  called  you  a 
witness." 

The  possession  of  the  little  wooden  doll  was  the 
solitary  satisfaction  of  the  moment,  the  one  slender 
thread  between  him  and  Irma.  If  nothing  else,  it 
was  an' object  which  her  fingers  had  touched  fre- 
quently, most  likely,  and  to  which — to  judge  from 
that  word  about  "the  Past" — she  attached  some 
symbolical  meaning.  Yet,  stare  at  Vindobona  as 
inquiringly  as  he  would — and  that  he  should  so 
stare  was  the  best  proof  of  the  state  of  his  intellect, 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     303 

and  consequently  of  his  affections — her  sharp 
wooden  features  remained  those  of  a  sphinx. 

"Would  an  application  to  the  father  be  any  use, 
I  wonder?"  he  was  musing,  when  into  the  midst 
of  necessarily  fruitless  meditations  there  fell  a 
bomb  in  the  shape  of  another  note  from  Minna. 

When  he  had  read  it  he  sat  for  some  minutes 
with  the  sheet  between  his  fingers,  thinking  so 
deeply  as  to  have  become  motionless. 

For  Minna's  note  ran  thus : — 

"DEAR  VINCENT, 

"I  have  received  a  piece  of  news  which  I  feel 
bound  to  pass  on  to  you  at  once,  not  knowing  in 
how  far  it  may  affect  your  resolutions.  Fraulein 
Hartmann  had  missed  two  lessons  already,  on  the 
ground  of  not  being  able  to  leave  her  father,  who 
had  what  she  took  to  be  mere  influenza.  To-day, 
however,  she  tells  me,  in  a  few  hurried  lines,  that 
the  doctor  had  discovered  some  affection  of  the 
heart — of  old  standing,  apparently — and  that  mat- 
ters had  looked  so  bad  that  she  wired  for  her 
mother,  who  came  two  days  ago,  but  is  going  to 
return  to  Austria  almost  immediately,  the  danger 
having  meanwhile  passed. 

"I  thought  you  would  like  to  know  this.    In  fact, 
I  feel  that  you  have  a  right  to  do  so. 
"Your  affectionate  cousin, 

"MINNA  BENNETT. 


3o4     POMP  AND   CIRCUMSTANCE 

"P.  S. — Mrs.  Hartmann  seems  to  be  lodging  in 
a  private  hotel  in  the  same  street." 

When  Vincent  had  sat  still  for  a  little  while  his 
back  straightened  perceptibly,  and  he  drew  out  his 
watch. 

"To-day  always  remains  a  safer  investment  than 
to-morrow,"  he  muttered.  "A  message  to  Eaton 
Place  will  get  me  off." 

He  was  on  his  feet  already,  his  resolve  clear-cut. 
For  this  was  an  unlooked-for  chance.  Until  now, 
while  determined  to  hunt  down  the  mysterious 
"obstacle,"  he  had  not  known  in  which  direction  to 
start.  Was  not  this  the  Finger  of  Providence  at 
its  old  work?  It  was  to  be  expected  that  Irma's 
mother  should  be  fully  informed;  probably  better 
informed  than  the  father,  who  for  the  moment  fell 
out  of  the  calculation,  since  one  cannot  cross-ques- 
tion a  man  barely  escaped  from  the  jaws  of  death. 
Therefore,  Irma's  mother — who  herself  was  a  lit- 
tle mysterious — must  not  be  allowed  to  leave  Lon- 
don without  having  been  persuaded,  or  entrapped, 
or  forced  into  an  interview.  Vincent  was  in  no  hu- 
mour to  stick  at  trifles,  as  any  of  his  relations  could 
have  seen  by  taking  account  of  the  set  of  his  fea- 
tures. Mrs.  Hartmann  was  not  a  wooden  doll, 
and  therefore  could  not  possibly  be  as  sphinx-like 
as  that  creature  upon  the  mantelpiece.  It  was  even 
possible  that  Mrs.  Hartmann  herself  was  the  "ob- 
stacle." In  this  case,  too,  the  "witness  of  the  eye" 


305 

would  be  the  best  means  of  illuminating  the  situa- 
tion. The  thing  was  obvious;  and,  judging  from 
Minna's  P.  S.,  not  to  himself  alone. 

Ten  minutes  later  he  was  on  his  way  to  Filbert 
Gardens  in  a  mood  which  had  swept  all  squeamish 
considerations  of  appearances  to  one  side,  bent  only 
on  seizing  the  unhoped-for  opportunity,  by  the 
hair  of  its  head,  if  need  be. 

Owing  to  the  fact  that  Filbert  Gardens  possessed 
a  single  specimen  of  the  commodity,  the  identifica- 
tion of  the  "Private  Hotel"  presented  no  difficul- 
ties. Vincent,  indeed,  would  have  cheerfully  rung 
every  bell  in  the  square — excepting  only  that  of 
No.  38,  where  he  dared  not  present  himself;  but, 
in  point  of  fact,  he  had  only  to  ring  at  two. 

Mrs.  Hartmann?  Yes,  the  foreign  lady  lodged 
here,  but  she  had  stepped  over  to  No.  38,  just  four 
doors  off.  If  the  gentleman 

But  the  gentleman  cut  the  suggestion  short  by 
inquiring  when  she  might  be  expected  to  return. 

"She  came  in  yesterday  at  ten,"  explained  the 
scraggy  housemaid,  who  had  opened  the  door. 
"But  it's  likely  she'll  come  in  sooner  to-day,  seein' 
as  'ow  she's  leavin'  to-morrer." 

"To-morrow?"  repeated  Vincent,  in  a  sort  of 
panic. 

"Yes.    For  the  Conternont." 

The  word  was  self-consciousness.  It  was  not 
every  day  that  Continental  passengers  passed  that 
way. 


3o6     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

"I  prefer  to  wait  for  her  here.  You  have  some 
sort  of  sitting-room,  I  suppose?" 

"We've  got  a  droring-room,"  corrected  the 
scraggy  maiden,  almost  reproachfully,  "with  two 
sofas  in  it." 

Just  outside  the  door  of  the  "droring-room," 
Vincent  drew  out  his  card. 

"When  Mrs.  Hartmann  comes  in  give  her  this 
card,  and  tell  her  that  I  wish  to  speak  to  her  upon 
an  urgent  matter.  She  may  be  surprised,  as  she 
does  not  know  my  name,  but  I  must  see  her.  You 
understand?" 

The  fierceness  of  the  whisper  in  which  the  last 
words  were  spoken  was  a  good  deal  softened  by 
the  coin  which  glided  into  the  scarlet  hand,  inter- 
cepted on  its  way  to  the  door-handle. 

The  scraggy  housemaid  looked  at  the  coin  and 
blushed.  Coins  of  this  colour  were  even  rarer  be- 
tween these  walls  than  Continental  travellers. 

"In  course  I  understand,  sir,"  she  assured  him, 
with  the  respectful  wink  of  a  withered  eyelid. 
"You'll  see  her,  sir — never  you  fear!" — and  flung 
wide  the  door  of  the  room  with  the  two  sofas,  into 
which  Vincent  stalked,  recklessly  indifferent  as  to 
the  possible  conclusions  touching  his  relations  with 
Mrs.  Hartmann  which  the  half-sovereign  might  be 
calculated  to  suggest. 

Besides  the  two  sofas — one  of  which  was  occu- 
pied by  two  women  in  earnest  consultation  over  a 
parcel  of  patterns — the  "droring-room"  contained 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     307 

a  dozen  chairs,  evidently  not  planned  with  a  view 
to  lengthened  physical  repose,  and  three  tables, 
upon  which  various  magazines  dating  from  not 
further  than  a  year  back  invited  to  agreeable  lei- 
sure. Upon  one  of  the  chairs  Vincent  sat  down, 
and  waited  grimly,  for  close  upon  an  hour,  making 
no  plans  for  the  impending  interview — that  was 
best  left  to  the  spur  of  the  moment,  he  considered 
— but  chiefly  conscious  of  how  nearly  he  had  missed 
this  precious  chance;  and,  alas,  prosaically  re- 
minded, by  prosaic  sensations,  of  the  vulgar  fact  of 
not  having  dined.  Occasionally  the  door  would 
open  to  admit  some  person,  usually  of  the  gentler 
sex,  who,  by  virtue  of  a  cotton-lace  collar,  or  a  rib- 
bon-bow at  the  neck,  evidently  considered  herself 
to  have  "dressed"  for  dinner — or  else  to  let  out 
a  similar  specimen  of  womanhood.  Except  the 
two  women  with  the  patterns,  who  were  too  deep 
in  agonies  of  indecision  to  have  any  attention  to 
spare,  they  one  and  all  cast  curious  glances  towards 
the  young  man  in  the  immaculate  evening  suit,  sit- 
ting solitary  and  rigid,  like  a  soldier  at  his  post; 
but  to  him  their  existence  was  evident  only  as  an 
annoyance.  Would  the  room  be  clear  when  Mrs. 
Hartmann  came?  To  have  to  say  in  a  whisper 
that  which  he  had  to  say  would  not  make  matters 
easier.  During  that  hour  the  guests  in  the  two-sofa 
room  shifted  more  than  once,  all  except  the  choos- 
ers of  patterns,  who  played  the  part  of  a  social 
rockbed.  Once  or  twice  Vincent  looked  impatiently 


308     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

in  their  direction,  for  they  appeared  to  be  settled 
for  the  night. 

And,  in  fact,  they  were  the  only  intruders  re- 
maining when  at  last  the  door  opened  to  admit  a 
person  of  quite  a  different  stamp  from  the  wearers 
of  the  cotton-lace  collars:  a  tall,  dark-haired 
woman  in  a  fur  cloak  and  cap,  holding  a  card  in 
her  hand,  and  looking  about  her  inquiringly  and 
seemingly  in  some  agitation.  At  the  first  glance 
Vincent  knew  who  she  was.  Yes,  of  course  Irma 
would  have  a  beautiful  mother;  yes,  this  was  Irma's 
bearing,  Irma's  beauty  matured  and  somewhat 
coarsened — but  not  Irma's  eyes,  he  told  himself, 
as,  advancing  to  meet  her,  he  saw  the  face  close. 

"You  wish  to  speak  to  me?"  she  asked  coldly, 
but  within  her  eyes  an  alarm  which  puzzled  him. 

Vincent  bowed. 

"I  have  an  important  communication  to  make  to 
you.  If  you  will  come  to  the  end  of  the  room " 

He  glanced  towards  the  women  on  the  sofa,  still, 
fortunately,  engrossed. 

"About  my  husband?"  asked  Mrs.  Harding, 
quickly. 

"No;  about  your  daughter." 

"Oh!" 

She  took  a  rather  deep  breath,  and  the  alarm 
left  her  eyes.  Until  this  moment  she  had  suspected 
a  private  detective,  a  very  well-dressed  one,  to  be 
sure,  but  she  believed  that  to  belong  to  the  exigen- 
cies of  the  profession, 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     309 

Without  any  further  objection  she  sailed  across 
the  shabby  carpet,  towards  the  further  end  of  the 
room,  and  sat  down  upon  the  second  of  the  sofas 
with  the  air  of  a  queen  taking  possession  of  a 
throne. 

"Well?"  she  said,  turning  to  Vincent,  while,  in 
her  attitude  of  expectancy,  bewilderment  still  clear- 
ly had  its  part. 

Drawing  one  of  the  unreposeful  chairs  close  to 
the  sofa,  Vincent  sat  down,  and  deliberately  leaned 
towards  her,  at  an  angle  which  allowed  of  a  lower- 
ing of  the  voice. 

"Mrs.  Hartmann,"  he  said  very  plainly,  though 
nearly  in  a  whisper,  "I  do  not  want  to  keep  you 
long,  for  I  know  you  are  on  the  eve  of  a  journey. 
Therefore  I  will  go  straight  to  the  point'.  I  have 
taken  a  liberty ;  but  I  think  you  will  forgive  me  for 
it  when  you  hear  what  I  have  to  say.  But  first  let 
me  ask:  have  you,  perhaps,  heard  my  name  from 
your  daughter?" 

Mrs.  Harding  glanced  at  the  card  in  her  hand 
and  shook  her  head. 

"No,  Irma  has  not  spoken  of  you." 

"Well,  then" — his  heart  sank  a  little  at  the  dash- 
ing of  what  had  been  a  thought  of  hope — "I  must 
just  speak  of  myself,  and  of  what  I  have  done.  I 
have  twice  asked  your  daughter  to  marry  me." 

"To  marry  you?" 

The  wonder  in  her  tone  suddenly  turned  to  in- 
terest. Her  great  black  eyes  took  rapid  and  closec 


310     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

stock  of  the  man  before  her,  and  the  practised 
glance  approved. 

"Yes,  and  she  has  twice  refused  me." 
"I  see.    And  you  want  me  to  intercede  for  you? 
But  I  am  afraid  I  cannot  boast  of  any  influence 
upon  my  daughter,"  said  Mrs.  Harding,  with  a 
bitter  contraction  of  the  lips. 

"No,  it  is  not  intercession  I  require;  it  is  infor- 
mation. If  intercession  could  have  done  it  I  should 
have  gained  the  day,  for  I  know  that  she  loves 
me." 

Mrs.  Harding's  brilliantly  white  teeth  were  dis- 
played in  a  smile  that  was  a  little  pitying — the 
smile  of  one  who  knows. 

"That  is  what  men  like  to  think  when  they  are 
refused.  Are  you  sure  your  self-confidence  is  not 
deceiving  you?  Excuse  me,  but  you  seem  to  have 
a  fair  portion  of  it." 

"I  have  it  from  her  own  lips  that  she  loves  me." 
"She  says  that  she  loves  you,  and  yet  she  refuses 
to  marry  you?    Does  that  sound  credible?" 

"Not  in  the  least;  nor  explicable  either.  She 
tells  me  that  something  stands  between  us — some 
impediment  in  the  way — that  she  will  never  be  able 
to  marry.  That  is  why  I  have  insisted  on  speaking 
to  you.  You  are  her  mother.  It  is  not  likely  that 
you  should  be  ignorant  of  the  nature  of  this  ob- 
stacle. I  cannot  doubt  that  you  will  want  to  secure 
her  happiness ;  and  I  think  you  may  be  able  to  tell 
me  how  best  to  attack  this  impediment — for  I 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     311 

mean  to  attack  it.  I  hope  you  will  help  me  to  gain 
her — if  you  judge  me  worthy  of  her,"  he  added, 
with  the  usual  afterthought,  and  once  more  lower- 
ing his  voice,  which,  unconsciously,  had  gone  up  by 
a  tone. 

Mrs.  Harding  sat  rigid,  the  rich  red  fading 
slowly  out  of  her  face. 

"Irma  said  that?"  she  asked,  with  lips  that 
moved  stiffly. 

"Yes.  I  thought  at  first  that  it  was  no  more 
than  a  strong  reluctance  to  leave  her  father;  but 
she  said  to  me  plainly  that  even  if  her  father  were 
dead  the  impossibility  would  remain." 

To  himself,  watching  Mrs.  Harding's  face  and 
the  convulsive  clutch  of  her  fingers  upon  the  table 
edge,  he  said :  "Whether  she  tells  me  or  not,  she 
knows."  And  at  this  new  evidence  of  the  reality 
of  the  hindrance  his  heart  grew  heavy. 

"I  am  horribly  indiscreet,  I  know,"  said  Vincent, 
in  the  forced  whisper  in  which  they  were  talking; 
"but  please  to  remember  that  the  happiness  of  my 
whole  life — and  I  believe  of  hers,  too — is  in  play." 

Mrs.  Harding  spoke  only  after  a  pause.  With 
eyes  fixed  upon  the  opposite  wall,  she  had  appeared 
to  be  inwardly  debating. 

"Perhaps  you  are  indiscreet;  but,  then,  you  are 
in  love — very  much  in  love,  apparently,"  and  she 
sent  him  a  glance  of  close  inquiry.  "I  don't  mind 
your  indiscretion,  since  it  allows  me  to  be  indiscreet, 
too.  I,  too,  have  questions  to  ask  before  I  answer 


312     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

yours.  Whether  Irma's  feelings  are  concerned  I 
do  not  know ;  her  future  certainly  is ;  and  you  must 
remember  that  I  know  no  more  than  your  name. 
How  am  I  to  be  assured  that  you  are  in  a  position 
to  secure  to  Irma  a  life  of  comfort  and  of  the — the 
regard  which  she  ought  to  enjoy?" 

The  great  black  eyes  became  acutely  expectant. 
Doubtless  the  cut  of  his  evening  coat — not  to  speak 
of  his  manners — was  reassuring  in  the  extreme, 
and  yet  left  the  field  of  conjectures  inconveniently 
wide. 

Vincent  sat  up  in  his  chair  and  almost  laughed. 
Of  course !  How  stupid  of  him !  He  ought  to 
have  thought  of  that  before.  That  he  should  not 
have  begun  by  reassuring  the  mother  upon  such 
vital  points  was  only  another  symptom  of  the  rav- 
aging effects  of  love  upon  his  mental  faculties. 

He  explained  briefly,  and  perhaps  a  trifle  haugh- 
tily, while  Mrs.  Harding  attentively  listened,  vis- 
ibly impressed  by  the  mere  words  "Diplomatic 
Service,"  though  to  her,  as  well  as  to  Irma,  the 
subject  was  a  foreign  one. 

"I  am  daily  expecting  my  nomination  to  a  secre- 
taryship at  a  foreign  Embassy,"  he  finished,  as 
modestly  as  he  was  able. 

"Ah !  and  those  sort  of  secretaries  become  Am- 
bassadors in  time,  don't  they?" 

"/  mean  to  become  an  Ambassador,  at  any  rate." 

"Ah !"  she  smiled  approval  on  him.  "But  mean- 
while— you  have  something  to  live  on,  I  suppose  ?" 


POMP  AND   CIRCUMSTANCE    313 

"Not  as  much  as  I  should  wish;  but,  besides  my 
pay,  which  will  soon  be  eight  hundred  a  year,  I 
have  another  eight  hundred  of  my  own." 

Mrs.  Harding  fell  again  into  a  train  of  reflec- 
tion, from  which  Vincent's  urgent  voice  aroused 
her. 

"Your  questions  are  answered,  Mrs.  Hartmann; 
but  you  have  not  yet  answered  mine.  You  have  not 
told  me  whether  you  know  what  the  obstacle  is?" 

"Yes,  I  know!"  she  said  abruptly,  and  so  loud 
that  the  two  women  with  the  patterns,  who,  having 
at  last  made  up  their  undecided  minds,  were  leav- 
ing the  room,  looked  round  with  a  stare. 

"And  can  you  remove  it?" 

She  rose  impetuously,  as  though  to  escape  his 
persistent  eyes. 

"No — I  cannot  remove  it." 

"It  is  real,  then?" 

"It  is  only  too  real.  I  can  do  nothing,  I  fear. 
This  I  can  tell  you :  /  am  not  the  obstacle  1"  She 
laughed  harshly,  her  head  thrown  back,  a  glance 
of  proud  self-justification  thrown  at  the  man  in 
whom  she  divined  a  possible  accuser.  (Is  it  not 
the  wife  who  is  always  suspected,  before  the  hus- 
band?) "Oh,  Irma,  my  poor  Irma!  What  a  sac- 
rifice of  a  life!  And  to  think  of  the  folly  which 
has  caused  it!" 

She  stood  before  him  with  eyes  blazing,  and 
hands  clenched  by  her  side  in  the  best  tragedy- 
queen  fashion.  Probably  she  had  said  more  than 


314    POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

she  meant  to,  being  clearly  in  a  rage.  Turning, 
she  took  a  few  hasty  steps  in  the  room  of  which 
they  were  now  the  sole  occupants.  Vincent,  who 
had  risen  when  she  did,  gazed  at  her  in  a  mixture 
of  admiration  and  of  unreasoned  repulsion.  It 
was  when  she  met  his  look  that  the  effort  to  recover 
herself  became  evident. 

"You  will  excuse  the  agitation  of  a  mother  who 
sees  a  daughter's  happiness  hanging  in  the  bal- 
ance," she  said,  forcing  a  smile,  though  her  bosom 
still  heaved.  "I  sympathise  with  you,  believe  me; 
but  I  cannot  help  you.  I  don't  know  whether  any- 
thing can  help  you  and  Irma — but  I  fear  not." 


CHAPTER  X 

THE   APPEAL 

IT  was  a  little  before  ten  o'clock  next  morning 
when  Mrs.  Harding  and  Gabrielle,  in  full  travel- 
ling attire,  leaving  the  cab  with  the  luggage  at  the 
door,  entered  Number  thirty-eight.  Their  train 
left  Victoria  at  eleven  precisely,  which  allowed  a 
small  margin  for  the  final  leave-taking. 

Wrapped  in  an  old  dressing-gown,  the  convales- 
cent cowered  over  the  fire  which  Irma  had  carefully 
mende  i,  previous  to  putting  on  her  hat;  the  im- 
provement in  the  patient  making  it  possible  for  her 
to  see  the  travellers  off,  and  thus  partly  replace  the 
maid  whose  services  Mrs.  Harding  so  sorely 
missed. 

When  Gabrielle  had  been  repeatedly  folded  in 
her  father's  rather  limp  arms — her  pocket-hand- 
kerchief being  in  full  play  the  while — her  mother 
took  her  by  the  shoulder,  not  over-gently. 

"There — that  is  enough,  Gabrielle!  You  will 
be  wanting  some  last  words  with  your  sister,  no 
doubt.  You  had  better  go  to  her.  There  will  be 
no  time  for  talking  at  the  station.'* 

3'5 


3i6     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

It  was  Mrs.  Harding  who  shut  the  door  behind 
Gabrielle,  before  returning  to  where  her  husband 
sat,  following  her  movements  in  some  astonish- 
ment; for  during  these  last  painful  days — which 
both  had  judged  too  painful  to  prolong — the  avoid- 
ance of  tete-a-tetes  had  been  her  chief  care.  He 
awaited  her  now,  silent  and  passive,  with  inquiring 
eyes.  There  were  signs  of  a  new  and  acuter  anger 
about  her  to  which  he  had  no  clue. 

When  she  was  close  he  took  her  hand — gloved 
already — and  held  it  for  a  moment. 

"Thank  you,  Isabella,"  he  said  slowly,  in  his 
enfeebled  voice,  in  which  the  agitation  of  approach- 
ing separation  was  less  evident  than  a  great  ex- 
haustion both  of  body  and  soul. 

"Thank  you  for  coming.  It  must  have  been  a 
great  sacrifice.  Be  sure  that  I  appreciate  it." 

She  pulled  her  hand  away,  her  black  brows  knit- 
ting. 

Again  he  looked  at  her  with  his  forlornly  ques- 
tioning eyes. 

"Isabella,  must  we  part  in  anger?  I  have  ceased 
hoping  for  your  forgiveness,  but  is  it  too  much  to 
ask  for  your  toleration  ?  You  seemed  able  to  bear 
the  sight  of  me  yesterday — or  was  that  only  be- 
cause I  was  on  my  back? — and  there  is  no  new 
cause  that  I  know  of " 

"There  75  a  new  cause !"  came  over  Mrs.  Hard- 
ing's  OjUivering  lips  in  a  burst  of  exasperation, 


POMP  AND   CIRCUMSTANCE     317 

under  which  her  heart  had  been  swelling  for  hours. 
"Oh,  you  don't  know  what  I  learnt  yesterday  1" 

Under  the  vehemence  of  her  tone  he  sank  back 
in  his  chair,  wide-eyed  and  cowering  a  little,  as  a 
man  on  whom  many  blows  had  fallen  cowers  be- 
fore the  fresh  one  which  he  divines  coming,  with- 
out knowing  from  which  side  it  threatens. 

"I  cannot  be  long  about  it;  there  is  no  time.  I 
had  a  visit  from  Mr.  Denholm.  I  suppose  you 
know  who  Mr.  Denholm  is?" 

"Denholm?  Yes.  That  is  the  man  that  took 
Hungarian  lessons  from  Irma." 

"And  also  the  man  that  wants  to  marry  her. 
Do  you  happen  to  know  that?" 

"To  marry  her?  Are  you  sure?  I  had  no  idea. 
It  was  Mr.  Potts  who  wanted " 

"Another?  I  daresay;  and  another  impossibil- 
ity, of  course.  The  long  and  the  short  is  that  Mr. 
Denholm  has  twice  proposed  to  Irma,  and  that  she 
has  twice  refused  him,  while  admitting  that  she 
loves  him,  but  telling  him  that  something  stands 
between  them — that  she  can  never  marry.  He 
came  to  ask  me  whether  I  could  throw  any  light 
on  the  matter.  I  declined,  of  course;  how  could 
I  do  otherwise?  But  don't  you  see  what  this 
means?  As  long  as  Irma  is  tied  to  your  fate,  what 
can  be  her  chances  of  happiness?  I  don't  know 
that,  even  separated  from  you,  she  can  hope  for 
much  now  in  the  way  of  a  marriage,  since  the  name 
remains ;  but  by  your  side  she  cannot  be  other  than 


3i8     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

a  social  outcast.  That  is  what  I  foresaw  in  Vienna 
when  I  wanted  to  keep  her  back — when  I  called 
upon  you  to  go  away  alone — to  disappear  out  of 
her  life.  And  the  world  is  so  big  nowadays,  there 
are  so  many  new  countries  to  vanish  into.  It  may 
not  be  too  late  yet;  I  do  not  know.  I'm  afraid 
matters  are  pretty  hopeless,  especially  taking  his 
position.  I  don't  know  much  about  diplomats,  but 
I  fancy  they  have  to  choose  their  connexions  care- 
fully. Still,  there  is  no  saying — if  you  were  gone 
there  might  be  found  a  way." 

The  haste  with  which  perforce  she  spoke  made 
the  words  more  precipitate  and  the  exposure 
plainer  and  consequently  more  brutal  than  had  lain 
in  her  intention.  Now  she  paused  sharply  for  an 
answer;  but  Harding  sat  still,  his  powers  of  speech 
and  even  of  motion  momentarily  checked  by  aston- 
ishment; for  the  disclosure  had  about  it  the  com- 
pleteness of  a  revelation.  Perhaps  because  the  plump 
figure  of  Mr.  Potts  had  blocked  the  way  to  other 
suspicions  he  had  never  even  glanced  at  this  possi- 
bility. Now  he  was  remembering  various  things— 
that  return  in  the  fog — those  questions  about  diplo- 
mats— yes,  the  circumstantial  evidence  tallied. 
Probably  the  thing  was  true. 

"Edward — say  something!"  urged  Isabella. 
And  then,  meeting  that  empty  gaze,  checked  her 
own  words  under  an  inner  movement  which  pos- 
sibly was  akin  to  remorse,  or  rather  to  that  awe 
with  which  tyrants  are  sometimes  seized  at  a  close 


POMP  AND   CIRCUMSTANCE     319 

sight  of  their  victims.  Sunk  there  in  the  chair, 
with  his  white  face  almost  of  the  same  tint  as  his 
white,  disordered  beard,  with  the  deep,  deep  lines 
about  the  desolate  eyes  and  the  attenuated  nose,  he 
looked  so  defenceless  and  so  broken  that  the  ab- 
surd superfluity  of  striking  a  creature  so  stricken 
already  came  over  her,  with  the  nearest  approach 
to  shame  of  which  she  was  capable.  She  had 
loathed  the  thought  of  him  for  close  upon  a  year 
now ;  and  since  last  night  she  had  been  hating  him 
afresh  as  the  obstacle  to  Irma's  happiness — or,  at 
any  rate,  to  her  future;  and  yet,  convinced  though 
she  was  of  the  Tightness  of  her  cause,  some  vague 
need  of  self-justification  stirred  unexpectedly. 

"You  had  to  know.  How  could  I  be  silent  when 
Irma  is  concerned?"  she  said,  in  a  tone  from  which 
some  of  the  harshness  was  gone — and  sincerely, 
too;  for  in  this  woman  in  whom  the  wife  had  been 
dead  for  so  long  the  mother  undeniably  lived — 
chiefly  for  Irma,  the  inheritor  of  her  own  beauty, 
the  embodiment  of  a  possibly  brighter  future. 

"And  even  for  yourself  it  would  be  better  to  go 
— to  America,  I  suppose.  It  would  be  less  painful 
for  you  than  your  present  position.  You  would 
need  to  regain  your  strength,  of  course,  first,"  she 
added,  with  an  effort  at  magnanimity.  "But  per- 
haps in  spring— when  the  cold  is  past — I  could  give 
you  the  passage-money,  if  that  is  the  difficulty, 
shall  be  able  to  manage  that.  Don't  you  see  that 


320     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

it  would  be  better  for  you,  Edward?  And  safer, 
too." 

The  cloak  of  decency  thrown  over  naked  facts 
had  been  snatched  at  almost  unconsciously. 

"Don't  you  understand  me,  Edward?" 

"Yes,  I  understand  you,"  he  said,  with  suddenly 
recovered  quiet,  and  with  a  look  which,  her  robust 
nerves  notwithstanding,  Isabella  could  not  forget 
till  the  end  of  her  life. 

"Mamma,  it  is  high  time!"  said  Irma,  opening 
the  door.  "You  will  only  just  catch  the  train,  as  it 
is.  Papa,  are  you  sure  you  have  everything  you 
want?  I  shall  be  back  in  two  hours,  at  latest,  and 
Pattie  will  answer  the  bell  any  minute." 

A  few  minutes  later  Irma  sat  beside  her  mother 
in  the  cab,  a  heightened  colour  still  burning  in  her 
cheeks,  and  stealing  an  occasional  inquiring  side- 
glance  at  Mrs.  Harding.  Those  few  minutes  with 
Gabrielle  had  likewise  for  her  held  a  revelation. 
She  had  learnt  from  her  sister  the  fact  of  last 
night's  visit,  and  even  the  name  of  the  visitor,  since 
Gabrielle  had  found  the  card  on  the  dressing-table 
and  been  inquisitive  enough  faithfully  to  preserve 
the  inscription  in  her  memory.  At  the  motive  of 
the  visit  she  could  partly  guess,  but  not  at  its  re- 
sult. He  had  announced  his  intention  of  investi- 
gating what  she  called  the  "impossibility"  and 
what  he  called  the  "obstacle."  How  much  had  he 
discovered?  A  question  to  her  mother  might  have 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     321 

settled  the  point,  but  against  the  idea  of  putting  it 
her  pride  revolted. 

*#***** 

Huddled  together  in  the  arm-chair,  and  not 
having  yet  stirred  out  of  the  attitude  in  which  his 
wife  had  left  him,  Edward  Harding  sat  and  la- 
boriously reflected.  The  disclosure  just  heard  had 
been  bad,  but  the  fashion  of  the  disclosure  had 
been  worse.  Now  that  the  first  astonishment  at 
the  news  was  past  he  was  not  thinking  so  much 
of  the  impediment  to  Irma's  marriage,  he  was 
thinking  of  the  appeal  made  to  him,  and  which  the 
fact  of  this  impediment  had  provoked. 

Upon  the  feverish  excitement  which  had  pre- 
ceded the  arrival  of  Isabella  had  followed  a  space 
of  the  blackest  disappointment  which  had  yet  come 
to  this  life  so  full  of  disappointments.  He  had 
had  the  vision  of  his  goddess,  craved  for,  but  he 
knew  that  it  would  be  the  last  in  his  life.  He  him- 
self could  not  even  wish  for  a  repetition  of  it. 
These  last  days  had  been  too  cruel.  Already  in 
the  supreme  moment  of  meeting  something  had 
jarred  within  him.  The  surprise  at  his  recovery 
had  to  his  super-sensibility  smacked  too  much  of 
disappointment.  Out  of  the  stereotyped  and  con- 
ventional congratulations  upon  the  fortunate  turn 
of  his  illness  he  had  heard  the  unspoken  and  prob- 
ably unacknowledged  reproach  for  having  recov- 
ered. And  this  time  he  read  the  symptoms  as  he 
had  never  read  them  before.  From  the  vantage- 


322     POME  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

ground  of  the  edge  of  the  grave  on  which  he  had 
so  recently  stood  he  had  gained  an  insight,  never 
his  before — death  being  in  truth  the  only  true  val- 
uer of  life.  The  shadow  of  the  tomb,  barely  with- 
drawn, had  strangely  widened  his  vision.  At  last 
he  was  beginning  to  judge  his  idol.  Until  now  a 
wavering  belief  in  her  generosity  had  still  per- 
sisted. Even  the  atrocious  scene  in  his  study  at 
Vienna  might,  by  stretching  many  points,  be 
ascribed  to  the  impulses  of  the  moment — to  over- 
strained nerves.  There  had  been  many  months  to 
ease  the  strain,  to  lessen  the  bitterness.  Finding 
him  on  his  sick-bed  might  awaken  mercy.  It  was 
now  only  that  hope  had  definitely  died;  now  only 
that  he  knew  himself  spurned  for  ever.  How  much 
simpler,  to  be  sure,  if  he  had  not  recovered;  sim- 
pler for  himself  and  for  others!  For  Irma,  for 
instance,  whose  happiness  might  possibly  have  been 
thereby  assured,  but,  above  all,  for  Isabella,  in 
whose  side  he  would  always  be  a  thorn,  who  was 
so  beautiful  still,  and,  delivered  of  him,  would 
doubtless  find  another  and  worthier  husband.  A 
sharp  sting  of  jealousy  touched  him  at  the  thought, 
of  such  jealousy  as  is  felt  at  twenty,  and  rising  tri- 
umphant above  bodily  weakness ;  for  the  idol,  even 
with  its  feet  of  clay  revealed,  still  dazzled  him 
with  the  beauty  of  its  face.  He  could  partially 
judge  her,  but  he  would  never  be  able  to  resist  her. 
It  was  his  intellect  which  had  freed  itself,  but 
neither  his  heart  nor  his  senses.  To  her  advantage 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE    323 

he  was  ready  to  sacrifice  himself,  and  by  the  sacri- 
fice might,  perhaps,  wipe  out  the  moral  debt  in- 
curred. And  Irma,  too,  poor  Irma,  she  would  be 
paid,  at  least,  in  part.  For  her,  too,  that  which 
he  thought  of  would  be  a  deliverance,  though  she 
might  not  recognize  it  as  such.  Irma  was  different 
from  Isabella — a  true  and  tender  woman.  Was 
Isabella  a  woman  at  all?  and  not  rather  a  beautiful 
monster !  Ah,  but  how  beautiful  a  monster  1 

He  closed  his  eyes  the  better  to  conjure  up  the 
vision  of  the  face  which  had  been  his  undoing. 
Even  in  this  vital  moment  the  "good  girl"  re- 
mained a  bad  second  in  his  thoughts.  Strict  justice 
she  should  have  from  him,  strict  and  full  justice, 
but  it  was  not  her  image  around  which  his  thoughts 
twined. 

Yes,  he  would  disappear,  it  was  the  only  thing 
to  do,  but  not  to  America.  From  America  a  return 
was  conceivable,  and  for  him  there  must  be  no  re- 
turn, since  his  place  in  the  world  was  gone,  and  his 
occupation.  What  should  the  worshipper  do  be- 
fore an  empty  shrine  ?  The  idol  was  broken,  may 
be;  it  had  shown  itself  to  be  a  dead  thing;  but  that 
simply  meant  that  he  could  not  go  on  living. 

Ah,  if  he  had  that  revolver  which  Irma  had 
taken  from  him  once !  What  could  have  become 
of  it?  He  had  never  seen  it  since.  He  suspected 
Irma  of  having  dropped  it  overboard  during  the 
crossing  from  Hamburg.  A  revolver  did  the  thing 
so  quickly.  But  what  chances  had  an  invalid, 


324     POME  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

watched  over  so  assiduously,  of  procuring  himself 
another?  There  were  other  ways,  of  course.  His 
eyes  went  vaguely  round  the  room  in  a  search 
which  felt  itself  hopeless,  and  presently  fastened 
themselves  on  the  array  of  medicine  bottles  on  the 
table.  The  morphia !  To  be  sure  1  The  sleeping 
draught  prescribed  by  Dr.  Hockins !  How  had  he 
not  thought  of  that  at  once  ?  Why,  that  would  do 
even  better  than  the  revolver,  would  make  no  mess, 
and  quite  a  painless  process,  he  believed.  This 
way,  too,  nobody  need  ever  know  that  it  was  not 
an  accident.  Ah,  but  supposing  Irma  had  locked 
it  away. 

Laboriously  he  rose  to  his  feet  and  tottered  over 
to  the  table,  where  a  fit  of  coughing  forced  him  to 
pause  and  to  hold  on  to  its  edge  until  quiet  re- 
turned. Then,  his  eyes  still  full  of  a  blinding  mois- 
ture, he  groped  about  with  his  trembling  fingers 
among  the  bottles.  Ah,  here  it  was,  mercifully. 
Irma's  suspicions  must  have  gone  to  sleep,  else  it 
would  not  be  here.  Carefully  and  jealously  he  put 
the  bottle  aside  and  sat  down  to  think. 

"Let  me  see,  which  will  be  the  best  way?" 
With  his  elbows  on  the  table  and  his  chin  upon 
his  clasped  hands,  whose  wrists,  painfully  emaci- 
ated, protruded  from  the  sleeves  of  the  faded 
dressing-gown,  he  began  to  make  his  plan,  his 
brain  already  working  at  high  pressure.  In  a  mo- 
ment his  eyes,  so  empty  a  minute  ago,  had  taken 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     325 

on  that  sharp,  almost  cunning,  look  of  the  criminal 
who  meditates  his  crime. 

It  would  have  to  be  done  before  Irma's  return, 
of  course ;  else  she  might  take  away  the  bottle,  as 
she  had  taken  away  the  revolver.  She  might  be 
back  before  twelve,  and  it  was  getting  on  to  eleven 
now.  And  then  there  was  another  thing:  Dr. 
Hockins,  who  might  be  expected  to  look  in  even 
earlier  than  that.  His  furrowed  brow  knit  in  in- 
tense reflection. 

Presently  he  stirred  with  the  decision  of  a  man 
who  has  found  what  he  was  looking  for,  and, 
reaching  for  the  blotting-book,  dipped  a  pen  in  ink 
and  began  to  write:  two  notes,  of  which  one  was 
addressed  to  Vincent  Denholm  at  the  Foreign 
Office,  the  other  to  Dr.  Hockins;  this  latter  but  a 
few  scrawled  lines : 

"By  your  charity,  and  as  you  hope  for  mercy 
yourself,  deal  mercy  unto  me,  and  let  me  die  in 
peace.  It  was  the  greatest  mistake  you  made  in 
your  life  when  you  got  me  over  that  attack.  I  am 
trying  to  remedy  that  mistake  now.  To  my  daugh- 
ter— and  to  others — it  remains,  of  course,  an  over- 
dose, taken  by  mistake.'* 

Owing  to  the  debility  of  his  fingers  it  took  him 
rather  long  to  write  the  two  notes.  Having  closed 
both,  and  holding  the  one  addressed  to  Denholm, 
he  tottered  back  again  to  the  fireplace. 


326     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

The  promptitude  with  which  Pattie  answered 
the  bell  spoke  of  the  stringency  of  Irma's  com- 
mands. 

"You  will  take  this  to  the  pillar-post  at  once, 
please,"  he  said,  with  unwonted  imperiousness. 
"And  when  Miss  Hartmann  comes  in  you  will  tell 
her  that  I  am  lying  down.  I  have  had  a  bad  fit  of 
coughing  and  have  taken  my  sleeping-draught.  She 
knows  that  I  slept  little  last  night.  I  would  rather 
not  be  disturbed.  You  understand?" 

"Yes,  sir.  A  fit  of  corfin'?  You'll  be  wantin' 
your  lime-blossom  tea,  I'm  thinkin'.  Shall  I  fetch 
up  a  cup?  I  won't  put  no  medal  in  it — I  promise 
you  faithful,  Miss  'Artmann  'as  forbidden  me  that; 
but  if  you  would  let  me " 

"No,  I  want  nothing.  Only  take  the  letter  at 
once,  do  you  hear  ?  At  once !" 

The  thought  of  bribing  her  to  silence  crossed  his 
mind,  but  was  rejected  as  superfluous  and  possibly 
dangerous. 

Pattie  gone,  he  first  placed  the  note  for  Dr. 
Hockins  beside  his  bed — ready  against  a  possible 
intrusion,  despite  the  word  passed  to  Pattie;  then 
took  up  the  selected  bottle  and  eagerly  scanned  the 
superscription:  "Ten  drops  in  water  at  night." 

"I  suppose  a  tablespoonful  will  be  enough  ?  Is 
there  a  spoon?  Yes." 

He  considered  the  advisability  of  locking  the 
door;  but  here  also  decided  in  the  negative.  A 
locked  door  would  awake  suspicions,  and  might 


POMP  AND   CIRCUMSTANCE     327 

cause  him  to  be  disturbed — too  soon.  A  look  at 
his  watch  told  him  that  it  was  close  upon  eleven, 
and  by  twelve  Irma  might  be  back.  Clearly  there 
was  no  time  to  lose — though  he  had  no  idea  of 
how  fast  the  drug  might  work. 

The  taste  was  horribly  bitter,  taken  thus  without 
water,  as  he  did  in  his  haste;  besides,  might  not 
water  weaken  the  effect?  With  a  little  grimace 
of  repulsion  he  wiped  his  mouth  and  his  white 
beard,  on  to  which  a  drop  had  fallen.  Perhaps  it 
would  be  wiser  to  wash  the  spoon  ?  The  use  of  a 
spoon  might  contradict  the  theory  of  the  overdose. 
Going  to  the  washing-table,  he  rinsed  it  out  care- 
fully, and  further  went  through  the  precaution  of 
placing  a  tumbler  with  the  remains  of  the  diluted 
dose  usually  taken  at  night  beside  the  bed. 

Then  he  returned  to  his  chair,  scarcely  aware  of 
any  fatigue  after  these  unwonted  exertions ;  for  the 
nervous  tension  easily  supplemented  physical 
strength.  And  now  he  began  to  wait — somewhat 
disappointed  at  the  absence  of  an  immediate  effect, 
and  scarcely  convinced  of  having  taken  any  vital 
Step.  But  for  the  bitter  taste  still  in  his  mouth  he 
might  have  doubted  the  reality  of  his  own  action. 

Presently  Pattie  was  heard  returning.  But  her 
steps,  instead  of  making  straight  for  back  regions, 
paused  before  the  door.  There  was  a  knock. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Harding,  in  a  tone  of  sharp 
annoyance. 

It  was  a  wire,  which  Pattie  had  met  in  the  street. 


328     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

He  opened  it  with  a  certain  indifference;  what  had 
he  to  do  with  wires  any  longer? — but  as  he  read 
his  eyes  brightened.  The  message  was  from  Irma, 
and  told  him  that,  the  eleven  o'clock  train  having 
been  missed,  the  travellers  would  take  the  next 
Continental  express,  at  one-thirty.  Therefore  she 
could  not  be  home  till  after  two. 

"It  is  well.  Don't  come  in  again.  I  shall  be 
lying  down  immediately." 

"Yessir.  And  I  thought  you'd  like  to  know  that 
the  letter  just  caught  the  eleven  o'clock  clearin'. 
They  was  just  fillin'  the  sacks  as  I  came  up." 

"All  right,  all  right !    Now  go !" 

He  remained  with  a  pleased  smile  on  his  face. 
More  than  three  hours  before  Irma  could  be 
looked  for  I  Surely  the  stars  were  fighting  for 
him! 

But  were  they  fighting  for  him?  Why  did  he 
feel  nothing  yet?  Would  a  second  spoonful  be 
necessary?  At  the  thought  he  repeated  the  recent 
grimace.  That  taste  was  so  horribly  bitter.  He 
would  wait  a  little  longer.  And  the  fire  was  so 
pleasant.  How  agreeable  this  glow  running  over 
his  skin! 

He  rubbed  his  hands  softly,  a  new  feeling  of 
buoyancy  mounting  within  him.  Not  for  many, 
many  years,  certainly  not  since  his  hair  had  begun 
to  bleach,  had  he  felt  so  curiously  light-hearted  as 
he  was  feeling  just  now.  How  well  he  had  man- 
aged this !  How  simple  it  was,  after  all !  Would 


POMP  AND   CIRCUMSTANCE     329 

Isabella  shed  one  tear?  After  all,  she  had  loved 
him  once.  That  day,  when  she  kissed  him  for  the 
first  time,  her  lips  had  glowed  like  coals.  He  could 
feel  the  glow  now — all  over  him.  And  nothing 
became  her  like  white — though  she  never  wore  it 
now.  It  made  her  almost  too  dazzling.  There — 
leaning  upon  the  velvet-covered  edge  of  the  box, 
with  the  electric  light  upon  her  black  hair,  and  all 
the  vast  opera-house  no  more  than  a  frame  to  her 
beauty.  Had  any  woman  ever  reigned  as  she 
reigned?  But  was  she  not  leaning  too  far?  Would 
she  not  fall  ?  Were  those  the  tiers  of  boxes  begin- 
ning to  revolve  ? 

He  carried  his  heavy  hand  to  his  head  as  though 
to  stay  the  growing  dizziness — yet  even  the  slight 
act  was  a  struggle.  Oh,  how  good  it  would  be  to 
stretch  oneself  out,  with  a  pillow  beneath  the  head  I 
And  there  was  a  bed  somewhere,  but  so  far  off! 
His  suddenly  weary  limbs,  aching  now  like  the 
limbs  of  a  beaten  man,  yearned  towards  it,  and  yet 
could  not  decide  themselves  to  move. 

"But  I  cannot  die  here — I  should  fall  into  the 
fire!"  shot  through  his  mind  in  the  lightning  track 
of  expiring  thought  amidst  the  closing  darkness. 

With  a  final  effort  of  will  he  dragged  himself 
out  of  his  chair,  and,  groping  half-blindly  forward, 
fell  upon  the  bed  with  a  deep  and  trembling  sigh. 
And  almost  immediately  the  room  slipped  from 
his  consciousness — and  with  it  the  world. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE    PROMISE 

"ONE  O'CLOCK,"  noted  Vincent,  as  he  descended 
the  staircase  of  the  Foreign  Office.  "Shall  I  take 
the  news  straight  to  Eaton  Place?  It  ought  to 
come  in  well  as  a  luncheon  dish.  Berlin,  of  all 
places  in  the  world !  Best  comment  on  the  opinion 
entertained  up  there  of  your  humble  servant.  Not 
likely  they  would  put  an  idiot  to  Berlin  just  now." 

The  thought  was  triumphant,  but  the  eyes  were 
not  quite  so  triumphant  as  they  would  have  been 
some  months  ago  under  this  same  contingency,  for 
at  that  time  the  "good"  appointment  had  appeared 
to  be  the  one  thing  wanting  to  his  happiness,  while 
now  another  thing  was  wanting.  Neither  could 
he,  after  last  night's  interview,  feel  that  he  was 
any  nearer  gaining  it.  Irma's  mother,  though  more 
animated,  had  scarcely  been  less  sphinx-like  than 
Vindobona  herself;  and  the  one  positive  impression 
to  be  gained  from  her  demeanour  was  that  the 
obstacle  did  not  exist  in  Irma's  imagination  alone. 

Before  he  got  to  the  foot  of  the  staircase  he  had 
decided  that  the  news  of  his  appointment  would 

33° 


POMP  AND   CIRCUMSTANCE     331 

keep  till  evening.  Somehow  the  prospect  of  Lady 
Aurelia's  toothless  smile  of  delight  was  not  con- 
genial just  then. 

Before  a  table  white  with  letters  he  stopped  ab- 
stractedly, from  force  of  habit.  There  was  a  post 
just  in,  and  the  harvest  still  untouched. 

"Vincent  Denholm,  Esq. — Vincent  Denholm, 
Esq." 

His  practised  eyes  went  to  the  right  spot  at  once. 
Quite  a  little  mail ;  but  nothing  that  promised  inter- 
est. All  tiresomely  familiar  handwritings — all  ex- 
cept a  cheap-looking  envelope  with  a  shaky  super- 
scription which  held  no  place  in  his  memory.  Stand- 
ing before  the  table,  with  his  unlighted  cigar  be- 
tween his  teeth,  he  carelessly  opened  the  missive — 
which  he  strongly  suspected  of  being  a  begging  let- 
ter— and  read  as  follows : 

"Dear  Sir: 

"I  have  just  learned  that  you  love  my  daughter, 
and  that  she  returns  your  affection,  but  refuses  to 
marry  you  because  of  an  impediment  in  the  way;  I 
feel  it  my  duty  to  let  you  know  that  /.am  the  im- 
pediment. The  matter  is  very  simple.  My  name 
is  not  Hartmann,  but  Harding,  and  I  am  not  Aus- 
trian, but  English.  I  am  that  Edward  Harding, 
the  quondam  director  of  the  Austrian  branch  of 
the  Anglo-Saxon  Bank,  whose  name  you  may  have 
seen  in  the  papers  about  two  months  ago  as  that 
of  a  defrauder,  signalled  to  the  international  police. 


332     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

The  papers  did  me  no  wrong:  I  am  a  defrauder. 
If  there  be  a  God,  he  knows  that  when  I  touched 
the  deposits  in  my  hands  I  did  so  with  the  full  con- 
fidence of  being  able  to  replace  them ;  but  I  cannot 
expect  men  to  believe  me.  Yet  I  do  not  want  you 
to  think  me  quite  base.  I  had  no  intention  of  sur- 
viving my  disgrace.  If  I  have  done  so  it  is  Irma's 
fault.  It  was  she  who  took  the  revolver  from  my 
hand,  who  bore  me  away  from  the  spot  of  exposure 
— and  who,  by  living  for  me  ever  since,  has  morally 
forced  me  to  live.  Her  mother  did  what  she  could 
to  show  her  the  folly  of  her  resolution,  but  nothing 
could  stop  the  sacrifice.  By  her  mother's  side  she 
could  have  lived  at  ease  and  unmolested,  yet  she 
chose  to  be  the  companion  of  the  guilty  wretch  I 
am. 

"But  it  has  been  a  useless  sacrifice;  a  mere  post- 
ponement of  the  only  possible  end.  I  cannot  live 
knowing  myself  a  dead-weight  on  my  family.  I 
am  the  impediment  everywhere.  But  the  impedi- 
ment will  have  been  removed — so  I  hope — by  the 
time  this  reaches  you.  I  don't  know  whether  my 
death  is  really  helping  your  cause,  since  in  your 
career  names  have  to  be  spotless;  but  I  imagine 
that  a  dead  criminal  will  be  less  in  your  way  than 
a  living  one. 

"Besides,  it  is  far  easier  to  die  than  to  live.  If 
it  were  not  for  the  thought  of  the  wretches  whom 
I  have  injured,  perhaps  ruined,  I  could  almost  die 
content.  Had  I  a  son  he  might  have  worked  and 


POMP  AND   CIRCUMSTANCE     333 

cleared  my  name  from  reproach ;  but  a  son  has  been 
denied  me — perhaps  mercifully,  for  who  knows 
whether  he,  too,  might  not  have  turned  against  me? 
It  is  not  certain  that  he  would  have  had  Irma's 
golden  heart.  I  leave  the  matter  in  your  hands. 
You  will  know  whether  or  not  her  happiness  is  a 
thing  to  be  attained.  If  she  questions  you,  you 
must  remember  that  it  was  a  mere  mistake  about 
the  medicine.  EDWARD  HARDING." 

With  his  cigar  still  between  his  teeth,  Vincent 
read  down  to  the  last  word  of  the  supposed  beg- 
ging letter.  For  a  brief  space  his  horrified  eyes 
remained  fastened  to  the  quavering  line  in  which 
the  signature  died  out,  while  the  fact  revealed  upon 
the  cheap  sheet  of  letter-paper  took  gradual  posses- 
sion of  his  incredulous  mind.  After  that  pause  -of 
astonishment,  which  seemed  to  himself  quite  a  long 
interval,  though  comprising  in  reality  but  a  few 
seconds,  his  numbed  mind  felt  itself  suddenly 
whirled  off  in  a  very  witches'  dance  of  fast  and 
furious  thought.  Amazement,  compassion,  ad- 
miration, horror,  all  circled  wildly  about  him — but 
chiefly  horror.  This  letter,  even  at  the  highest 
computation,  could  not  have  been  written  more 
recently  than  two  hours  ago.  And  within  those 
two  hours — what? 

Making  precipitately  for  the  door,  he  signalled 
to  a  passing  hansom.  Out  of  the  chaos  of  sensa- 


334    POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

tions  one  urgent  need  stood  out  intelligibly — that 
of  staying  the  hand  of  the  suicide. 

"Drive  like  the  devil  1"  he  called  to  the  man, 
having  given  the  address;  and,  scarcely  seated,  sat 
well  forward,  with  the  fare  in  his  hand,  as  though 
to  lose  no  second  at  the  other  end. 

But,  though  "Cabby"  came  up  nobly  to  the  ap- 
peal, the  distance  between  Downing  Street  and  Fil- 
bert Gardens  is  not  to  be  traversed  in  mere  seconds. 
During  that  headlong  drive,  more  than  once  in 
danger  of  being  interrupted  by  a  grieved-looking 
policeman,  Vincent's  wild  thoughts,  despite  him- 
self, and  almost  unknown  to  himself,  began  auto- 
matically to  range.  To  arrive  in  time  was  the  one 
conception  occupying  the  surface  of  his  mind;  but 
below  this  surface  many  other  things  moved  and 
dawned;  and  in  the  background  of  his  conscious- 
ness, piece  by  piece,  something  like  a  vision  of  the 
future  emerged,  tentatively  as  yet,  and  almost  tim- 
idly, yet  with  a  curious  persistence.  Even  while 
muttering  to  himself,  "Will  I  be  in  time?"  and 
with  his  thoughts  bent  feverishly  on  Filbert  Gar- 
dens, he  caught  glimpses  of  things  which  seemed 
to  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  present  emergency 
— of  Bob  Kendall's  weather-beaten  face,  among 
other  things — and  of  horizons  which  certainly 
were  not  those  of  that  desolate  street. 

He  had  all  but  torn  down  the  bell  before  Pattie, 
with  streaming  locks,  and  eyes  swollen  to  a  size 


POMP  AND   CIRCUiMSTANCE     335 

which  usually  signified  some  more  than  normal  dis- 
aster to  Mrs.  Martin's  crockery,  opened  the  door. 

"Mr.  Harding — no,  I  mean  Hartmann?"  asked 
Vincent,  feeling  every  heart-beat  as  a  separate  stab. 

Pattie,  who  was  clasping  a  hot-water  bottle  to 
her  breast,  set  up  a  subdued  howl. 

"Oh,  pore  gentleman!  pore  gentleman!  You 
can't  see  him,  sir — he's  that  ill !  Taken  too  much 
of  his  medicine,  the  docthor  says.  And  Miss  'Art- 
mann  not  come  in  yet !  It  do  be  awful  I" 

She  was  rocking  her  body  from  side  to  side,  and 
with  it  the  bottle,  as  though  it  had  been*  a  sick 
baby. 

"Hurry  up  with  that  hot  water !"  came  sharply 
from  an  open  door  close  by;  and  Vincent;  pushing 
past  the  girl,  made  his  way  into  the  sick-room, 
where  Dr.  Hockins,  in  shirt  sleeves,  was  bending 
over  a  passive  figure  on  the  bed. 

"Is  he  alive?"  asked  Vincent,  breathing  as  hard 
as  though  it  was  he  who  had  done  the  running 
instead  of  the  cab-horse. 

The  doctor  glanced  keenly  at  his  disturbed  face. 
i  "You  know?" 

"I  know.  But  of  course  it  must  be  prevented. 
Can  I  be  of  any  use?" 

"Yes,  you  can — by  taking  hold  of  that  other  arm 
and  imitating  my  movements  exactly.  Artificial 
breathing,"  he  briefly  explained.  "Natural  breath 
far  too  superficial — shove  that  bottle  against  the 
feet" — this  to  Pattie — "and  tell  Mrs.  Martin  to 


336     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

get  some  black  coffee  ready — as  strong  as  she  can 
brew  it." 

At  the  clammy  touch  of  the  limp  hand  Vincent 
could  not  forbear  a  shudder.  With  his  dressing- 
gown  half  stripped  from  him,  Harding  lay  outside 
the  blankets,  his  head  tilted  back  upon  the  pillow, 
his  sunken  features  of  a  bluish  pallor — with  a  nar- 
row line  of  yellow-white  visible  between  the  half- 
closed  lids,  and  a  barely  perceptible  rising  and  fall- 
ing of  the  bare  chest,  veiled  by  the  unkempt  white 
beard. 

For  several  minutes  the  doctor  and  his  impro- 
vised assistant  manipulated  in  silence.  Then  first 
one,  then  the  other,  in  close  imitation,  paused. 

"What  was  it?"  Vincent  ventured  to  ask  in  a 
whisper. 

"Morphia.  No  need  to  lower  your  voice;  the 
louder  you  speak  the  better." 

"Is  there  any  hope?" 

"Only  in  so  far  as  where  there  is  life  there  al- 
ways is  hope.  I've  taken  the  usual  steps — whether 
in  time  or  not  I  don't  know.  The  state  of  the  heart 
complicates  matters  extremely." 

"Will  he  not  return  to  consciousness  at  all?  I 
have  something  to  say  to  him;  something  I  must 
say  to  him." 

"If  consciousness  returns  he  is  probably  saved. 
All  depends  on  breaking  the  coma."  He  glanced 
at  his  watch.  "Time  for  another  camphor  injec- 
tion." 


POMP  AND   CIRCUMSTANCE     337 

A  few  seconds  after  the  injection  had  been  given, 
Dr.  Hockins,  whose  finger  was  upon  the  patient's 
pulse,  looked  significantly  at  Vincent;  and  Vincent, 
though  aware  of  no  change,  gazed  with  breathless 
expectation  at  the  livid  face  upon  the  pillow.  With 
a  breath  that  was  almost  a  groan  the  bloodless  lips 
parted.  Another  moment,  and  the  waxen  eyelids 
trembled  and  slightly  lifted,  only  to  drop  again 
heavily. 

"Now!  Now!  Pull  him  up — rub  his  arms! 
Leave  him  no  peace !"  commanded  the  little  doctor, 
with  suddenly  set  teeth.  And  together  they 
dragged  the  unresponsive  body  into  a  sitting 
posture. 

"If  you  have  anything  to  say  to  him  say  it  now. 
It  may  rouse  him." 

"Mr.  Harding!  Mr.  Harding!"  almost 
shouted  Vincent  into  the  dying  man's  ear.  "Can 
you  hear  me?" 

There  was  another  quiver  of  the  eyelids,  and 
again  they  went  up,  gradually  disclosing  the  pale, 
china-blue  iris  within  which  the  shrunken  pupils 
showed  like  the  heads  of  two  black  pins.  Fixedly, 
yet  without  expression,  they  fastened  themselves 
upon  the  face  bending  so  close. 

"I  am  Denholm — Vincent  Denholm — you  re- 
member me?  I  got  your  letter — the  letter  you 
wrote  this  morning.  You  understand?" 

He  paused,  looking  eagerly  for  signs  of  compre- 
hension. At  the  word  "letter"  he  had  thought  to 


338     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

see  something  like  a  light  passing  through  the  eyes. 
They  became  more  fixed,  but  also  more  attentive. 
It  was  evident  that  memory  was  at  work. 

"You  remember  what  you  told  me  in  your 
letter?" 

There  was  a  faint  movement  of  the  head,  enough 
to  assure  Vincent  that  the  stupor  had  been  pierced. 

"You  must  not  die,  Mr.  Harding;  there  is  no 
use  in  your  dying,  and  no  sense.  I  have  come  to 
tell  you  that  I  shall  marry  your  daughter  the  very 
moment  she  will  have  me." 

He  paused  again — not  because  he  had  remem- 
bered Dr.  Hockins's  presence,  which,  indeed,  never 
for  a  moment  struck  him  as  an  impediment  to  free 
speech — but  because  the  pale  lips  were  moving. 

"Your  career?"  came  at  last  in  tones  which  he 
could  only  catch  by  bending  his  ear  to  them. 

"My  career  will  consist  in  securing  her  happi- 
ness; I  have  no  other  to  pursue,  since  I  mean  to  re- 
nounce Diplomacy.  By  to-night  my  resignation 
will  have  been  handed  in." 

He  spoke  the  words  without  haste,  with  an  al- 
most superfluous  distinctness,  calculated  to  reach 
the  sick  man's  mind,  and  partly  also  his  own.  For 
until  this  moment  he  had  taken  no  clear  account 
of  the  ultimate  form  adopted  by  those  wild 
thoughts  whirling  within  him  during  the  recent 
drive.  He  had  not  yet  known  the  definition  of 
the  cosmos  which  had  come  out  of  that  chaos.  For 
the  process  had  been  a  subconscious  one,  playing 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     339 

itself  out  in  the  depths  while  the  more  evident  of 
his  reasoning  powers  were  busy  with  the  necessity 
of  getting  to  Filbert  Gardens  before  the  irretriev- 
able had  happened.  Now  only  he  knew  that,  from 
the  first,  his  resolution  had  really  been  fixed.  Of 
course,  he  could  not  be  both  Irma  Harding's  hus- 
band and  the  representative  of  his  country — that 
much  he  had  grasped  from  the  first.  He  would 
never  expose  either  her  or  himself  to  the  possible 
insults  which  in  high  places  the  name  of  Harding 
might  entail.  One  of  the  two  desires  of  his  soul 
must  fall;  nor  had  he  hesitated  before  the  issue. 
That  rush  of  admiration  for  nobility  of  soul  which 
only  noble  souls  can  feel  had  joined  hands  with 
love  to  tear  down  in  one  moment  the  wishes  of 
years.  And  in  the  admiration  a  little  shame  mixed. 
Beside  her  uncalculating  sacrifice  how  small  his 
merely  personal  ambitions  looked!  Against  the 
thought  of  being  beaten  in  generosity  by  a  mere 
girl  his  manhood  revolted.  Did  he  love  her  less 
than  she  loved  her  father? 

The  light-blue  eyes  with  the  tiny  pin-heads  in 
the  centre  had  been  torn  open  now  to  their  full 
width. 

"It  is  not  you  who  are  the  obstacle  to  our  happi- 
ness, Mr.  Harding,  it  is  I — or  rather  that  stupid 
career  of  mine.  Therefore  it  must  go.  My  life 
will  be  full  enough — with  her — and  with  some- 
thing else.  For  listen:  you  say  you  have  no  son 
to  clear  your  name — well,  I  propose  to  be  that  son, 


340     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

and  to  do  what  he  might  have  done.  I  have  some 
capital  of  my  own,  quite  enough  to  start  me.  I 
shall  go  somewhere  where  work  still  pays — to 
South  Africa,  probably — I  have  a  friend  there;  I 
shall  work,  and  Irma  will  work  with  me,  I  know, 
until  the  last  farthing  is  paid  of  the  debt  you  in- 
curred, until  not  a  person  remains  who  can  utter 
your  name  with  reproach.  Will  that  satisfy  you?" 

He  smiled  with  the  question,  pleased  and  sur- 
prised at  the  precision  with  which  even  the  details 
of  the  plan  had  already  worked  themselves  out  in 
his  mind. 

A  vibration  passed  over  Hoarding's  features.  The 
blue-nailed  hand  groped  towards  Vincent's;  the 
eyes,  with  suddenly  dilated  pupils,  in  which  the 
pin-heads  had  spread  to  exaggerated  patches — a 
sight  at  which  Dr.  Hockins  frowned  unseen — were 
fixed  upon  the  speaker's  face. 

"You  will  do  this?" 

"So  help  me  God,  I  will!  Your  honour  shall 
be  made  as  bright  again  as  your  son  himself  could 
make  it." 

"Then  there  is  a  God,  after  all." 

The  words  died  into  a  sigh — a  long,  quivering 
and  supremely  contented  sigh.  The  pale  blue  eyes 
disappeared  once  more  behind  the  withered  lids, 
rolling  heavily  downward,  like  the  curtain  at  the 
end  of  an  act. 

"Go  on  talking!"  said  Dr.  Hockins,  whose  at- 
tention had  for  several  minutes  been  as  completely 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     341 

absorbed  by  the  patient's  pulse  as  though  the  most 
ordinary  discussion  in  the  world  were  proceeding 
alongside. 

"Mr.  Harding!  Have  you  not  understood? 
Rouse  yourself,  in  God's  name  I  There  is  no  need 
to  die  now!" 

A  strange  smile — something  like  a  smile  of  com- 
prehension— twitched  the  thin  lips. 

"There  is  no  need  to  live" — Vincent  just  made 
out  the  words,  and  then,  bending  lower,  caught  the 
groaning  whisper  of  a  name;  but  the  name  was  not 
Irma's. 

"A  return  of  the  coma,"  grumbled  Dr.  Hockins. 
"Here,  lend  a  hand  again!" 

A  minute  later  he  stopped  his  movements  and 
pounced  upon  the  pulse. 

"The  corfey,  if  you  please,"  quavered  Pattie,  at 
the  door. 

"We  do  not  need  the  coffee  now,"  said  Dr. 
Hockins,  as  quietly  he  laid  back  the  inert  form 
upon  the  pillow. 


CHAPTER  XII 
"IGEN" 

A  HOWLING  winter  wind  rattled  the  windows 
in  their  sockets;  but  Irma  heard  nothing  of  it. 

Alone  in  the  little  box-like  drawing-room,  with 
the  toy-terrier  nestling  upon  her  knee — for  De 
Wet,  mortified  vanity  notwithstanding,  had  found 
it  wiser  to  make  the  best  of  the  situation,  much  as 
his  namesake  had  on  another  occasion  done  before 
him — she  sat  and  pondered.  Her  thoughts  were 
still  in  the  bleak,  leafless  cemetery  where  yesterday 
an  unhappy  man  had  been  laid  to  rest — her  eyelids 
still  smarting  from  the  tears  that  again  and  ever 
again  welled  up  from  her  desolate  heart.  Just  at 
first  they  had  refused  to  flow.  The  shock  of  the 
sight  awaiting  her  on  her  return  from  Victoria 
station  had  been  too  violent  for  immediate  tears. 
With  professional  plausibility  the  story  of  the  over- 
dose had  been  told  by  the  little  doctor  and  osten- 
tatiously accepted  by  Irma — in  how  far  believed 
in  the  doctor  himself  preferred  not  to  inquire. 
Something,  too,  had  pierced  to  her  understanding 
about  another  visitor,  departed  shortly  before  her 

342 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     343 

return,  and  she  had  even  guessed  at  his  name,  but 
without  attention  over  for  puzzling  out  the  pos- 
sible connexion  between  apparently  independent 
facts.  It  was  another  point  which  absorbed  her 
thoughts. 

"Pattie,  tell  me — is  it  my  fault?"  she  sobbed, 
when  at  last  the  tears  would  come.  "You  see,  if 
I  had  locked  up  the  medicine  he  could  not  have- 
taken  the  overdose.  How  can  I  ever  feel  happy 
again?" 

The  two  girls  were  upon  their  knees  beside 
Irma's  bed,  above  which  hung  the  little  silver  cruci- 
fix, and  Pattie's  work-worn  arms  were  around 
Irma's  swaying  figure.  To  drag  her  off  to  the 
crucifix  and  almost  to  force  her  down  upon  her 
knees  was  the  only  thing  which  had  occurred  to 
poor,  distracted  Pattie;  for  Pattie,  you  see,  was 
wofully  unlearned.  She  had  no  store  of  rational- 
istic arguments  wherewith  to  grapple  with  a  grief 
so  wild  and  so  fresh;  she  could  do  no  more  than 
stretch  out  clasped  hands  towards  the  figure  of  a 
bleeding  God,  whose  very  wounds  seemed  to  speak 
of  compassion  with  bleeding  hearts. 

It  was  here,  too,  that  the  delivering  tears  had 
come,  mixed  up  at  first  with  a  half-hysterical  in- 
clination to  laugh ;  for  Pattie's  version  of  the  Our 
Father,  into  which  she  had  plunged  headlong, 
appealed  to  other  senses  besides  the  sublime. 

"Hour  Father,  who  hart  in  'eaven,"  scarcely 
sounded  familiar  at  the  first  hearing;  but  at  the 


344     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

second  already  Irma  had  begun  to  cry,  partly  for 
company's  sake,  for  Pattie  was  gulping  hard  be- 
tween each  word. 

"You've  got  to  feel  'appy  again!"  said  Pattie, 
almost  fiercely.  "You're  one  o'  those  that's 
planned  out  for  'appiness — that  beautiful  as  you 
are !  The  thing  ain't,  rightly  speakin',  no  business 
of  yours.  If  the  pore  gentleman  was  to  take  an 
overdose,  then  he'd  take  an  overdose,  whether  or 
no  the  medicine  were  locked  away,"  she  explained, 
with  a  magnificent  disregard  of  logic.  "When  the 
hour's  struck  nothin'  can  stop  a  thing.  It's  what 
I'm  allays  savin'  to  Mrs.  Martin  about  them  cups 
and  saucers.  'I  do  believe  you  do  it  on  porpoise/ 
she  says  to  me,  when  one  o'  the  things  jumps  out 
o'  my  hands.  And  I  answers  her:  'I  never  do 
nothin'  on  porpoise,  Mrs.  Martin;  it's  just  that 
their  hour's  bin  and  struck.'  And  I  do  believe  it's 
the  same  with  people  as  with  cups." 

"And  yet  you  cry  over  the  cups  and  saucers, 
Pattie — you  know  you  do,"  argued  Irma,  to  whom 
Pattie  as  a  fatalist  was  new. 

"That's  only  becos'  it's  more  'andy  to  give  ad- 
vice than  to  foller  it,"  admitted  Pattie,  with  a  sigh. 
"But  my  hintellergence  be  against  it,  all  the  time. 
If  I'd  done  it  on  porpoise,  then  my  conscience 
would  be  stingin'  me  to  bits,  of  corse.  But  you 
can't  do  more  than  your  best,  can  ye?  And  why 
should  I  cry  becos'  plates  are  slippery?  Oh,  you 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE    345 

mustn't  go  by  me,  miss ;  I'm  not  one  o'  the  clever 
ones." 

And,  incredible  though  it  appeared  to  Irma  her- 
self, the  robustness  of  this  elementary  philosophy 
had  helped  to  dissipate  the  morbid  doubt.  If  the 
hour  had  really  struck,  then  to  take  away  the  bottle 
would  have  altered  the  end  as  little  as  had  done 
the  removal  of  the  revolver — if  the  end  had  been 
what  she  fearfully  divined.  Could  he  have  gone 
on  living  after  the  final  disappointment,  so  patent 
to  her  watchful  eyes — the  two  painful  days  just 
passed?  You  can't  do  more  than  your  best — that 
was  true,  though  Pattie  had  said  it.  Slowly  and 
heavily  the  orphan's  head  began  to  bow  under  the 

decree  of  fate. 

******* 

And  now  she  sat  in  Miss  Bennett's  drawing- 
room,  alone  with  De  Wet,  trying  to  think  out  the 
future.  Since  the  evening  of  the  terrible  day  in 
which  Minna — unexpectedly  announced — had,  al- 
most by  main  force,  carried  her  off  from  the  house 
of  death,  this  was  the  first  moment  at  which  she 
had  had  the  courage  even  to  glance  at  what  was 
coming.  A  bleak  and  empty  prospect  indeed.  To 
her  mother's  side  nothing  would  induce  her  to  re- 
turn; for  "I  should  tell  her  one  day  that  she  is  a 
murderess — I  know  I  should,"  she  argued — and 
that  had  better  not  be.  Neither  could  she  stay 
here  any  longer,  despite  Miss  Bennett's  incredible 
kindness — and  this  for  all  sorts  of  reasons,  but 


346     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

chiefly  because  of  the  danger  of  meeting  Vincent 
Denholm.  For  that  ordeal  she  was  not  sure  that 
her  strength  would  suffice.  Even  to  hear  his  name 
spoken  would  have  shaken  her  with  the  regret  of 
an  impossible  happiness;  but  she  had  been  spared 
even  his  name — for  which  circumstance  she  was 
more  grateful  to  Miss  Bennett  than  for  everything 
else.  She  wondered  whether  she  ought  even  to 
stay  in  London.  To  make  a  fresh  start  elsewhere 
might  be  easier — for  them  both.  How  if,  after 
exploiting  her  German,  she  were  now  to  exploit 
her  English?  Perhaps  in  France?  She  would 
consult  her  patroness. 

It  seemed  an  answer  to  her  wish  that  the  door 
should  open  just  then. 

"Miss  Bennett,"  began  Irma,  without  turning, 
resolved  to  brook  no  further  delay,  "I  have  just 
been  thinking " 

She  stopped  and  glanced  fearfully  over  her 
shoulder,  for  the  step  on  the  carpet  was  not 
Minna's. 

The  first  instinct  was  the  stupid  and  cowardlyone 
of  flight.  Indeed,  she  began  by  pushing  the  toy- 
terrier  off  her  knees,  as  though  preparatory  to  ris- 
ing, yet,  after  a  hasty  movement,  sank  back  again, 
with  the  colour  all  gone  from  her  face  and  her  eyes 
almost  hard.  One  look  at  Vincent  Denholm  had 
told  her  that,  if  needs  be,  he  would  put  himself 
between  her  and  the  door. 

"I  do  not  ask  you  to  forgive  me,"  he  was  saying 


POMP  AND   CIRCUMSTANCE    347 

gravely,  before  she  had  succeeded  in  quite  collect- 
ing her  wits.  "I  know  that  you  will  do  so  when 
you  hear  the  reason  of  my  intrusion.  I  have  a  mes- 
sage to  deliver  from  your  poor  father — no,  not 
exactly  a  message,  but  a  communication  to  make 
concerning  his  last  moments.  I  do  not  know 
whether  you  are  aware  that  I  was  with  him — at 
the  end?" 

Incapable  of  speech,  she  made  a  vague  move- 
ment with  her  head. 

"I  think  you  would  like  to  know  that  he  died 
content — I  might  almost  say  happy." 

Her  blue  eyes  fixed  him  wide  and  wondering. 

"I  was  able  to  take  a  heavy  weight  from  his 
mind  by  a  promise  I  gave  him.  It  is  right  that  you 
should  know  what  that  promise  was.  It  was  the 
promise  to  clear  his  name  from  the  stain  which 
misfortune  has  brought  upon  it." 

"You  know?"  asked  Irma,  precipitately,  all  the 
blood  rushing  back  to  her  face. 

"Yes,  I  know." 

"But  how—         Oh,  I  understand." 

And  she  thought  she  did.  The  question  as  to 
how  much  her  mother  had  told  him  seemed  an- 
swered now.  And  he  thought  it  wisest  to  let  it 
stand  at  that  answer. 

"That  is  why  you  went  to  him?" 

"Yes,  that  is  why;  and,  by  the  mercy  of  God,  I 
arrived  in  time." 

He  stooped  suddenly  and  softly  took  her  hand. 


348     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

"You  will  help  me  to  clear  his  name,  Irma,  will 
you  not?" 

At  his  touch,  despite  all  after-thoughts,  she 
thrilled,  yet  the  passionate  trouble  on  her  face 
showed  that  the  after-thought  was  there.  And 
then  she  asked  the  same  question  which  Minna 
Bennett  as  well  as  her  dying  father  had  asked : 

"Your  career?" 

"Spare  me  that  word!  I'm  beginning  to  hate 
its  sound.  My  career  is  a  thing  of  the  past — not 
of  the  future." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"That  I  have  decided  to  let  my  country  get  out 
of  its  foreign  embroglios  without  my  valuable  as- 
sistance, and  to  be  a  free  man,  instead  of  a  public 
servant." 

For  a  moment  astonishment  kept  her  rigid,  then, 
as  the  full  consciousness  of  what  this  implied  came 
over  her,  she  snatched  back  her  hand. 

"Ah — because  of  me  1  I  am  spoiling  your  life  ! 
No,  no — it  must  not  be !" 

"It  already  is.  My  resignation  was  handed  in  a 
week  ago.  I  have  no  more  business  inside  the 
Foreign  Office — in  fact,  my  place  is  filled  already 
— and  I  have  no  special  business  outside  of  it, 
either,  unless  you  so  will  it." 

"Oh!"  groaned  Irma,  her  face  in  her  hands, 
yet  beating  but  feebly  now  against  the  invading 
flood  of  happiness.  In  her  heart  hope  raised  its 
head,  while  in  her  ear  his  earnest  voice  pleaded. 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE    349 

"And  my  promise,  Irma?  Surely  you  forgot 
my  promise!  How  can  I  do  what  I  pledged  my 
word  to  do  unless  you  give  me  the  right?  Can  a 
stranger  undertake  what  a  son  alone  should  do?" 


A  little  later,  while  they  sat  in  the  twilight,  alone 
still,  except  for  the  much-disgusted  De  Wet — for 
in  comparison  to  the  seat  lately  occupied  even  his 
gem  of  a  basket  appeared  cold  and  comfortless — 
Vincent,  as  at  a  sudden  recollection,  put  his  hand 
in  his  pocket  and  drew  therefrom  something  shape- 
less and  pink. 

"What,"  began  Irma,  and  then  laughed  softly. 
"Oh,  it's  Vindobona." 

"Is  that  her  name  ?  She  wouldn't  tell  it  me.  I 
put  her  into  my  pocket  to-day,  I  believe  with  some 
idea  of  restitution;  but  now  it  strikes  me  that  de- 
struction will  be  more  appropriate.  You  told 
me  she  was  the  past,  and  we  have  only  to  do  with 
the  future." 

Rising,  he  went  over  to  the  fireplace  and  dropped 
the  little  pink  bundle  into  the  coals.  Together 
they  watched  the  thing  which  stood  for  the  Past 
flare  up  and  fall  to  ashes — gaudy  spangles,  black 
stains  and  all. 

Then,  after  another  long  silence,  came  Irma's 
hushed  question: 

"His  last  words — you  heard  them — what  were 
they?" 


350     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

Vincent's  arm  held  her  a  little  closer. 

"One  of  the  last  things  he  said  was,  'There  is  no 
need  to  live,'  and  he  smiled  so  extraordinary  a 
smile  as  he  said  it.  I  had  told  him  that  there  was 
no  need  to  die,  since  all  would  be  well;  and  that 
was  his  answer.  And  after  that — at  the  very  end 
— he  spoke  a  name." 

"What  name?" 

"It  sounded  like  Isabella — I  could  not  be  sure." 

Irma  fell  silent  again.  A  little  more  of  the 
weight  had  slipped  from  her  heart.  Whatever 
part  the  discovery  of  her  love  had  played  in  the 
last  act  of  the  tragedy,  her  woman's  instinct  told 
her  that  it  was  but  a  subordinate  one.  Hencefor- 
ward she  would  at  least  be  spared  the  consciousnes* 
of  her  happiness  being  built  upon  a  grave.  Pattie 
had  been  right  when  she  had  said  that  it  was  no 
business  of  hers,  rightly  speaking. 

And  presently  even  the  details  of  that  happines. 
began  to  unroll. 

"You  will  not  mind  going  away  far — very  far 
with  me?"  Vincent  had  asked,  and  she  answered 
with  a  sigh  of  deliverance : 

"Oh,  as  far  away  as  possible  from  all  the  old 
things!" 

Then  he  spoke  of  South  Africa,  and  of  the  plan 
already  formed  and  much  elaborated  during  the 
past  inactive  week — of  turning  his  capital  to  ac- 
count there. 

"It's  a  country  flowing  with  milk  and  honey, 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE    351 

from  all  accounts.  Of  course,  I  know  nothing  about 
obtaining  the  milk  or  collecting  the  honey,  but  I've 
a  friend  out  there  who  has  been  at  it  for  years. 
We'll  make  him  pick  us  a  likely  bit  of  land,  and, 
of  course,  it  is  he  who  must  manage  it  for  us.  I 
told  him  all  about  it  by  last  mail.  Poor  old  Bob ! 
I  believe  he'll  jump  straight  out  of  his  skin  when 
he  gets  my  letter.  The  last  time  I  saw  him  he  told 
me  that  to  get  under  an  English  master  would 
crown  his  wishes.  I  shall  tell  you  his  story  another 
time.  Capital,  brains,  and  a  free  hand — that  was 
all  a  man  wanted,  he  said,  to  make  a  pile  over 
there." 

Again  they  sat  silent,  while  the  wind  rattled 
unheeded  at  the  windows,  and  the  glow  of  the  fire 
grew  brighter  in  the  darkening  room. 

"And  another  thing  he  told  me  on  that  occasion 
was  that  to  have  a  plain  job  cut  out  for  you  and 
to  feel  that  you  can  do  it  was  worth  a  good  deal. 
I've  got  my  job  cut  out  now,  and  I  believe  I  can 
do  it.  Not  much  pomp  and  circumstance,  I  sus- 
pect, about  growing  peaches  and  breeding  ostriches, 
but  a  good  deal  more  hard  cash,  I  should  say,  than 
about  composing  treaties." 

He  laughed  happily,  then  fell  into  drawing  pic- 
tures of  the  unknown  land  and  of  its  exotic  beau- 
ties, to  which  she  listened  with  the  wondering  smile 
of  a  child  hearkening  to  a  fairy  tale.  And  under 
his  words  the  fairy  tale  glowed,  and  with  it  his 
own  heart,  as  it  had  not  been  able  to  glow  during 


352     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

the  difficult  days  just  passed.  For  that  there  had 
been  too  many  threads  to  tear,  too  many  bonds  to 
sever.  The  inevitable  pangs  could  not  shake  the 
fixed  resolve,  yet  they  had  been  there  all  the  same. 
But  whatever  regrets  had  assailed  him  in  the  blank 
intervals  between  the  two  lives,  while  common  de- 
cency kept  him  out  of  her  presence,  were  now  van- 
ished— drowned  in  the  blue  of  her  eys. 

******* 

"Spoiling  his  life?"  said  Minna  Bennett  at  a  late 
hour  that  night — that  intrinsically  confidential  hour 
at  which  dressing-gowns  flow  and  hair-brushes  are 
in  play.  "Put  that  ridiculous  idea  out  of  your 
head,  once  for  all!  You're  making  it  for  him,  I 
tell  you." 

"How?"  asked  the  incredulous  Irma,  who  had 
just  been  airing  her  scruples. 

"Quite  simple.  Nothing  more  organically  un- 
fitted for  the  Artful  Dodger  than  Vincent  can  be 
imagined — and  a  diplomat  is  just  a  duly  accredited 
variety  of  the  article,  you  know — yet  the  mere 
necessities  of  the  case  would  have  made  an  Artful 
Dodger  of  him  in  time — at  the  expense  of  his  char- 
acter. For  people  of  his  priggish  devotion  to  truth 
— and  with  Vincent  it  amounts  to  an  idiosyncrasy 
— the  diplomatic  mountain  is  a  slippery  one  to 
climb.  As  likely  as  not  he  would  have  come  a  nasty 
moral  cropper." 

Here  Minna  was  interrupted  by  the  necessity  of 
sneezing,  a  very  natural  necessity,  considering  the 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     353 

time  she  had  spent  in  her  unheated  bedroom  that 
afternoon. 

"He  thinks  he  is  happy  now  only  because  he 
loves  you,  but  it  is  also  a  little  because  he  knows 
that  an  inner  conflict  is  ended.  To  my  mind,  it  is 
not  your  father's  honour  alone  that  he  is  saving 
by  renouncing  what  men  call  'honours' — if 
honour  means  being  true  to  oneself.  I  have  been 
hoping  for  something  like  this  for  years.  Ah,  my 
dear,  you  cannot  imagine  how  grateful  I  am  to 
you — and  how  glad!" 

As  a  proof  of  which  Minna's  good-night  em- 
brace left  a  strangely  moist  feeling  upon  Irma's 

cheek. 

******* 

But  the  end  of  Vincent's  ordeals  was  not  yet. 
For  several  days  more  he  was  to  go  about  remorse- 
fully asking  himself  whether  a  charge  of  at  least 
moral  manslaughter  would  not  darken  the  rest  of 
his  days,  whether  the  spectre  of  his  stricken  grand- 
mother were  not  to  haunt  all  future  nights — for 
shocks  of  this  description  are  not  easily  weathered 
at  eighty-two. 

When,  with  infinite  precautions,  it  was  broken 
to  Lady  Aurelia  that  Vincent  had  not  only  refused 
the  Berlin  secretaryship,  but  simultaneously  sent  in 
his  resignation,  she  had,  after  a  brief  but  awful 
pause,  vindicated  her  perspicacity  by  putting  that 
same  question  which  a  Roman  Catholic  Archbishop 
is  said  to  have  put  to  a  priest  of  his  diocese  who 


354    POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

had  just  employed  ten  minutes  in  elaborately  set- 
ting forth  the  conscientious  grounds  on  which  he 
found  himself  forced  to  renounce  communion  with 
Rome : — 

"What's  her  name?" 

The  name,  being  presently  forthcoming,  sent 
her  into  the  nearest  approach  to  hysterics  of  which 
her  wiry  nerves  were  capable,  coupled  with  the 
loudly  proclaimed  intention  of  getting  straight  into 
her  grave,  and  the  earnest  request  of  being  ac- 
corded room  to  fall.  Pending  the  grave,  she  got 
into  her  bed  meanwhile,  after  having  boxed  the 
ears  of  the  handiest  victim,  who  happened  to  be 
her  maid,  and — so  it  was  reported  in  the  servants' 
hall — refraining  only  from  scratching  out  the  cor- 
responding pair  of  eyes  because,  owing  to  the  su- 
perior nimbleness  of  youthful  limbs,  she  had  been 
unable  to  reach  them. 

Then  for  days  a  complete  debacle  reigned  in  the 
orderly  existence  of  the  house  in  Eaton  Place,  at 
whose  door  the  family  doctor's  brougham  was  to 
be  seen  night  and  morning,  and  in  whose  hushed 
chambers  Chrissie  and  Cissy  discussed  the"  awful 
turn  of  affairs  in  whispers,  and  occasionally  in 
tears;  though  it  was  afterwards  remembered  that 
Chrissie's  eyes,  at  least,  had  never  actually  been 
red,  and  that  the  deepest  moans  over  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  family  hopes,  uttered  by  her  sister,  had 
failed  to  depress  her  completely.  Poor  Sir  Chris- 
tian, whose  fluffy  white  hair  seemed  inclined  to  fly 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE    355 

straight  off  his  head  before  this  blast  of  adversity, 
and  who  went  about  quoting  examples  of  just  such 
inappropriate  matches  as  this,  of  which  he  had 
taken  cognisance  either  in  his  "Roman"  or  his 
"St.  Petersburg"  time,  was  little  attended  to  in 
these  days.  It  was  almost  the  solitary  occasion  in 
his  life  that,  being  asked  for  something — that  is 
(as  a  mere  matter  of  form),  by  Vincent  for  his 
consent — he  had  not  unhesitatingly  acquiesced. 

"But,  of  course,  he's  only  got  to  see  her  again 
in  order  to  say,  'Certainly,  my  dear — just  as  you 
like!'"  groaned  Lady  Aurelia  under  her  bed- 
clothes— a  supposition  which  subsequent  events 
corroborated. 

For  nearly  a  week  Vincent  walked  the  streets 
with  at  least  a  modified  edition  of  the  mark  of 
Cain  upon  him.  It  was  the  Conte  Galliani  whom 
he  had  to  thank  for  the  removal  of  that  mark;  for 
if  the  Conte  had  not  chosen  this  exact  juncture  for 
coming  out  with  a  declaration,  at  which  Chrissie 
did  her  best  to  look  decorously  surprised,  there 
seemed  every  chance  that  the  Dowager  would  have 
made  good  her  promise  by  using  her  bed  as  a  mere 
stepping-stone  to  her  grave. 

But  when  "Lady  Mummy"  heard  that  her  eldest 
granddaughter's  hand  had  been  formally  demanded 
in  marriage  by  the  brilliant  young  attgche,  she  pro- 
ceeded abruptly  to  reconsider  the  position.  It 
seemed,  after  all,  that  there  was  something  still 


356     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

worth  living  for;  since,  apart  from  his  evident  abil- 
ities, the  Conte  was  a  parti  in  every  sense  of  the 
word,  lacking  neither  the  money  nor  the  connex- 
ions likely  to  give  him  many  desirable  "lifts." 

Accordingly,  less  than  three  days  later,  Lady 
Aurelia's  lemon-coloured  face — looking  now  like  a 
lemon  that  has  been  very  badly  squeezed — reap- 
peared in  the  Eaton  Place  drawing-room.  She 
could  not  rest  until  she  had  pressed  to  her  heart 
the  new  hope  of  the  family;  the  old  one  having,  by 
this  time,  actually  received  a  contemptuous  sort 
of  assurance  of  toleration,  if  not  of  forgiveness. 
As  for  persuasion,  she  had  not  so  much  as  at- 
tempted it — another  proof  of  perspicacity. 

"So  you  have  decided  that  to  live  in  the  country 
and  keep  a  trap  is  the  proper  way  of  filling  up  ex- 
istence?" was  the  greeting  extended  to  the  prodi- 
gal, together  with  an  indescribable  glance  from  the 
wickedly  black  little  eyes. 

To  which  Vincent — very  much  on  the  grin — 
replied  that  it  all  depended  upon  whom  you  had 
to  drive  in  the  trap.  For  half  an  hour  he  gladly 
endured  remarks  of  a  similar  scathing  description ; 
so  thankful  to  be  spared  a  possible  self-reproach 
that  his  grandmother's  remarks  appeared  to  him 
almost  as  "amioosing"  as  they  did  to  the  Conte — 
a  state  of  affairs  which  was  distinctly  hard  on 
"Lady  Mummy."  Unable  to  get  a  rise  out  of  the 
son,  she  perforce  fell  back  upon  the  father.  But 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE     357 

so  much  elation  did  there  lie  in  the  air,  so  univer- 
sal was  the  atmosphere  of  peace  and  good-will,  that 
even  the  "Vol-au-vent" — no,  the  "Caviare  Con- 
ference" was  produced  in  vain  to-day. 


EPILOGUE 

FOR  the  fourth  time  within  an  hour  Bob  Ken- 
dall went  back  into  the  house,  in  order  to  assure 
himself  that  the  table-cloth  and  the  napkins  were 
still  in  their  places,  and  that  the  salt-cellar  had  not 
been  forgotten;  also  to  try  and  make  up  his  mind 
whether  the  rocking-chairs  looked  better  facing 
each  other  or  the  window.  On  the  whole,  he  in- 
clined to  the  window,  on  account  of  the  magnifi- 
cence of  the  view,  filled  by  the  swelling  lines  of  the 
veldt  and  bounded  by  the  blue-grey  fortress  of  the 
mountains.  On  the  other  hand,  again,  there  were 
reasons  to  suppose  that  the  occupants  would  prefer 
the  look  of  each  other's  faces  to  the  finest  pano- 
rama a-going;  in  which  case 

Having  given  little  shoves  to  the  chairs  and  little 
pulls  to  the  white  calico  curtains  draping  the  win- 
dows, Bob  went  out  again  on  to  a  verandah  littered 
with  wood-shavings,  and,  shading  his  eyes  with 
his  hand,  stared  hard  in  one  direction.  Upon  a 
boulder-strewn  knoll  at  some  hundred  paces'  dis- 
tance a  black,  immovable  figure  was  to  be  seen, 
sharply  silhouetted  against  the  glorious  blue  of  the 
sky.  It  was  at  this  sentinel  figure  that  Bob  gazed 

358 


359 

expectantly — to  turn  away  again  presently  with  a 
restive  groan  and  attempt  to  cheat  impatience  by  an 
aimless  but  vaguely  beatific  stroll  round  the  prem- 
ises. 

The  opening  era  was  altogether  so  far  superior 
to  the  one  lately  closed  as  almost  to  suffice  for  the 
happiness  of  one  whose  demands  upon  happi- 
ness had  never  been  great.  In  default  of  getting 
his  own  "little  girl,"  to  know  that  Vincent  had  got 
his  was  almost  the  next  best  thing  on  the  list — that, 
and  the  English  master  sighed  for  so  long — and 
that  master  his  own  old  Vin !  What  wonder  that 
his  weather-beaten  face,  under  the  broad  straw  hat 
which  clothed  him  so  much  better  than  a  "chimney- 
pot" ever  could  do,  should  wear  a  grin  which 
threatened  to  become  chronic? 

Add  to  this  the  consciousness  of  not  having 
failed  in  the  task  imposed.  He  had  done  well  for 
Vincent,  and  he  knew  it.  His  prophetic  eye,  sweep- 
ing round  what  was  as  yet  but  a  builder's  yard  with 
only  the  dwelling-house  under  roof,  with  the  out- 
buildings mere  carcasses  of  wall,  with  stacks  of 
bricks,  sheets  of  corrugated  iron,  and  ponds  of 
liquid  mortar  making  havoc  of  the  ground  be- 
tween, saw  it  all  as  it  would  presently  be.  The 
establishment  was  not  even  to  be  described  as 
"new" — far  more  truly  as  "future."  The  word 
was  writ  large  over  its  untidy  yard,  its  pegged-out 
garden  space,  its  roughly  cut  approach,  and  over 
the  provisional  pen  above  whose  walls  of  loose 


360     POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

stones  two  prize  ostriches  craned  their  long  necks. 
But  to  Bob's  experienced  optimism  the  future  was 
almost  the  present.  With  his  mind's  eye  he  could 
see  the  peach  and  orange  trees  that  would  make 
the  landscape  perfect  by  filling  out  the  bare  fore- 
ground; and  already  he  calculated  the  progeny  of 
that  feathered  couple  in  the  pen. 

Having  bestowed  a  "mealy"  upon  each  of  the 
future  patriarchs  (and  all  but  got  his  fingers  bitten 
for  his  pains) ,  Bob  decided  to  take  another  look  at 
the  sitting-room,  which,  together  with  the  adjoin- 
ing bedroom,  represented  the  only  inhabitable 
spaces  of  the  house. 

All  right  there;  the  salt-cellar  still  in  its  place, 
and  the  napkins,  strangely  enough,  not  having 
played  any  pranks  in  his  absence.  After  another 
moment  of  deep  consideration  he  turned  the  rock- 
ing-chairs decisively  towards  the  window,  through 
which  the  glorified  panorama  of  the  sunset  had 
caught  his  eye,  gave  a  tug  to  the  bunch,  or,  more 
properly  speaking,  bush,  of  mimosa  which  occupied 
the  centre  of  the  table — Bob's  idea  of  table  decora- 
tion— and  once  more  went  out  for  another  consul- 
tation of  the  sentinel.  For  the  how  many'th  time 
the  manoeuvre  was  being  repeated  it  would  be  hard 
to  say;  nor  was  this  time  the  last.  It  was  just  when 
he  had  finally,  and  this  time  irrevocably,  decided 
that  the  chairs  had,  after  all,  better  be  turned  to- 
wards each  other,  that,  hearing  a  shout,  he  made 


POMP  AND   CIRCUMSTANCE     361 

for  the  verandah,  in  time  to  see  the  knoll  bare  and 
the  black  figure  racing  towards  him. 

"At  last !"  he  breathed  into  his  big  beard,  his  big 
heart  already  in  his  mouth. 

Then,  as  he  got  ready  to  wave  his  hat: 

"Upon  my  word,  it's  almost  as  good  as  though 
the  little  girl  herself  were  coming!" 

But  at  that  he  caught  back  his  breath  with  a 
feeling  very  close  to  self-reproach. 

"No — not  quite!" 


THE    END 


A     000125245     1 


